Kian's friend lives in a shopping mall on Sunset Boulevard, Los Angeles. The rest of the people from the job are German. They are in a van. Good thing we did not go with them. We have separated ourselves from the pack and are going to buy some brain mulch in hopes that everyone will be accepting of our irresponsibility and unprofessional decision-making.
Blu Blockers were invented in LA, and I am wearing makeup. Male model? I understand why a beautiful lemony fresh Orangina Sunkist commercial of a vision would be applicable. The makeup thing on the other hand.....is completely perplexing. I am over it, but I have never been to the San Bernadino Valley before. It is a trade off. We are proving why they had begged us to go in one packed car full of clothing, fashion, and not to the mall to buy some brain mulch. Yucca Boulevards and I hope they like the fertilizer because it is even better than the preliminary results of our mid day scavenger starting line.
Lale is in charge. The last time I saw her I woke up two days later with an eye patch in my suitcase. I realized that I had been at a Pirate party in Munich, Germany. The Captain Crunch boat had been defeated by the Blue Beard Bastards. Looking at the bloody eye patch, I realized that at one point I had beaten a man to take his eye patch and pirate hat, only to have been stabbed in the back by my own pirates. I landed in the ocean- thousands of painted blue boxes. I wondered why my hip was sore until I found the pirate paraphernalia. Where was I yesterday?
The Munchen Mariendel Hotel had the best pianist in the whole of the pre-Beethoven town. Rock out with Rachmanionov until 3 in the morning....wondering when they were going to finish so the bar tenders could go home. Why don't we have a spot where you can listen to Rachmaninov and have a good Weizen in NYC at 3 in the morning?
Kian was followed last night. They were bowling. Sounds peaceful. Some cocks decided to make bowling an ultimate fighting championship, confronting my skinny friend in the parking lot. He was pumping Marquee Moon by Television, not trying to fight a firefly. So they followed him, punching his windows at consecutive traffic lights. Steroidal nothingness. Kian was sitting in the passenger seat next to his sharp shooter friend who just got back from Iraq. 7 confirmed kills and 20 suspected kills later he jumped out of the car before Macho Man Randy Savage and friends could retaliate. He kicked in their windshield, beating them past recognition. How does one get confirmed?
How long did the mulch detour take????? We had to go through Bed Bath and Beyond to get to his friend's apartment. He was a trustafari reggae lead singer-cool, laid back, but lived next to Home Depot. On a daily basis, he has to park with the mall goers. We will tell these German Playboy Pirate Party maniacs that we were pulled over. We will say that we got searched, limp a little bit.
The mulch is good. Chia Pet, you will never be bald again. So is the reggae. The guy singing on the speakers gave us the mulch. Kian and I have both forgotten the directions to this place in the desert. We are supposed to go and meet the rest of these lunatics from Germany who have decided the best place to take pictures of weird looking guys is Palmdale, California. We are going the completely wrong direction. Where is this pickup truck headed?
Luckily, the Germans are 40 minutes in the wrong direction. Maybe we should go to the bar. Keep the map out at all times to detour the bugs in my corneas. Road side road rage and there's Geraldo! This is LA...isn't it? Huey Lewis and the News had it right. I love it here too.
Confirmed kills are when a called in kill is concluded. Unconfirmed kills are when you hit a car with a missile launcher and the casualty count is a toss up. Flip a coin Dubya!
Hollywood high budget Michael Bay gravel. Brain tremors. They'd blow the tops off all of them if they knew the mountains were hiding coal. Glenn Danzig would have a Misfits reunion concert while revving their bikes, sunbathing in their own premature haystack ejaculation festival. Rip the heart out of this plastic disaster and build a giant wheel chair ramp!
Call 1-800 Got-Kush. For 170 bucks you can run off a list of ailments, walk around the corner, and fill your prescription for some THC Listerine Strips. Is that legal?????? Vrrroooommmm and an oil spill.....gotta be within a 10 mile range of an In and Out Burger. Otherwise...... I feel naked. Which can be a good thing? I've never spent that much time in the desert, but Charles Manson has. I had to sell my guitar to fill up the tank. $3.50 a gallon! If gas prices had been this high the Helter Skelter murders would never occurred.
The mulch bowl fits perfectly in the Palmdale Boulevard arrival. Not a very exciting place to live....Palmdale. The bikers here spent all of their money on crystal meth while lighting their cigarettes off previous cigarettes, chain-smoking rusty chains on their Huffy bicycles. The Harley's were pawned a long time ago for booze. Jake had been arrested for robbing the "Advance Lube Store."
Tumbleweeds and here come the Joshua Trees. Where are the dirt bikes and the hearses that we had ordered to jump over these 7 foot sand clouds and somewhat useless lands of the apparent Ice Chest desert hotels in the middle of oh what a movie set. No, really, it's a movie set. A totally false gas station/hotel/bar in the middle of the desert. For $3,000, you can take pictures of guys wearing really tight pants, floral shirts, and many other clothes they would never wear. This is fashion, and somewhere over the mountains there is a fruity individual who can afford them.
Two blonde Orange County girls pull up in a '57 Cadillac Seville. They are not here to get gas. You can rent their car to create a Hunter S. goes Queer Eye photo spread. California is one big movie set. Let's go crow hunting!
I'm going to Kian's car for some more brain seeds and to hide from Jake who has come to fill up the tank of his Huffy bicycle with the rest of his Cactus Crew Gang. They will for surely rob us as I am now dressed like an Elton John desert assassin. Paul Smith has not designed a thorough military outfit in his entire career. There will be no blending in. Jake and the Cactus Crew survey the scene. "Dick it's time to take a picture," the photographer yells for me. The Cactus Crew licks their chops as I am propped over a 54 Oldsmobile. There is no engine in the prop that I am propped over. What do they want from me? I'm not rich? I just wanted to go to the desert and have some fun making 300 euros a day in the sun. Speaking of which..... Makeup Artist! I need more sunscreen!
"These gas pumps were imported from some Soho antiques dealer who sells overpriced vintage cowboy boots that he wears through long walks in manure factories, only to turn them over as props from some John Wayne movie!" Jake yelled at us from afar. His Mickey Mouse tattoo sparkled in the sun. While broke and addicted to crack, Jake had the ability to ride off into the sunset with the Cactus Crew. I, on the other hand, will be humiliated for two more days. What am I doing here? What did I go to college for? I should own a house at that Bear of a mountain in the distance. I need to buy a lottery ticket. I'll hire Jake for security; outfit him with a new pair of Donald Duck sunglasses. We'll take over the world together! Come back Jake! I wear Air Force 1's and baggy pants. I can prove it. They are in the trailer where I was forced to switch into this clown outfit. I promise!
The photographer is getting more and more frustrated with my frustration. "Who cares Kian! We'll never see the pictures, will we?" As the camera clicks more and more of my brain cells implode with the flash of so many better things I could be doing with my time. The mountaintops are laughing at my pants that are baby blue, cutting off the circulation in my thighs. I sound like such a baby.
Six twelve packs of Heineken, two Negro Modelos, 2 bottles of Tanqueray and tonic. Carrows vs. In and Out. Carrows vs. In and Out. The Germans are broke and spent most of their budget on liquor. We ate lunch at In and Out, but I still vote to go have another best burger in the world.
At Carrows we consume salads containing crunchy bag sealed watercress that have long forgotten their ideals of freshness. The food is equally fake and part of the photo shoot. These demonic beings of falsified family style dining will not let you out of a deep fried death-defying act. A heart-a-choke. Get me a fresh artichoke! Is anyone missing their garlic toast?
Carrows; if there were one last place you should be able to smoke in the world, this is it. On the other hand, the corporate soundtrack makes up for the lack of quality dining. God Dj's at Carrows on Palmdale Boulevard. When God takes a break to munch on mozzarella sticks Peter and Paul take over, blasting Chuck Brown "MMMMM MMMMM Goood!" A consistent rotation of love, peace, and chicken friend steak.
The Palmdale Seen Better Days Inn has been transformed into what appears to be a Broke Back Mountain fashion story. I'm dressed like a Thierry Meugler cowboy at 1:30 in the morning. Instead of two cowboys there's three of us, and someone in room 124 is getting a call for "Robert," a.k.a. we've stolen the propeller from the Queen Mary and it's on the back of Jake's Huffy trailer.
The camera is pointed at the bed. I'm thinking definitely Brokeback Mountain meets Gilbert Grape. Hopefully there will be some vintage Weimar Republic gear in the German's treasure chest they stole from the pirate party. And if someone walks by they will see two guys with their shirt off sitting on the edge of a bed, and another guy who appears to be in a comatose state of writing this article on how apparently I am participating in some German themed unoriginality that I no longer wish to be a part of.
Palmdale will not be scarred by this bizarre moment taken out of context. It will not be Chevy Chase getting caught skinny-dipping. The ultimate "Hooty's little dick fist." That moment, questioning one's self. Get me the hell out of here. While better than the pits and the pendulums, it will ultimately drive me to getting a real job, broken down mental palaces.
Had I been in Miami last night? It was all a dream....those bastards put rufi's in my drink, threw me in their trunk. They drove me out to the desert to wear an Etro shirt in some shithole hotel against my will, a.k.a. room 214.
Maybe we are marketing vampirism? I sure can play this role. Let's steal 214's microwave, buy some bow and arrows, light the bed sheets on fire, sprinkle our finger dust over them hailing to the roadside motel God's and keepers of some of the worlds most tragic and darkest stories. People have made lives out of fluorescent bedspreads and plaid carpets. The big silver metal warrior will shoot a mini neutron bomb, clearing any signs of a crime scene, struggle, or intro to any generic low budget murder movie.
I predict that 90% of the world's motel murders occur in the smoking rooms. On the other hand, it is far better to smoke in the non-smoking rooms. They have been smoked in much less. I guess you have to take the wind direction and the moon into effect. Either way, the carpets have seen it all.
Next on Cops, Palmdale. "This is officer Launchpad McDuck. We have received a report that there is some kind of German porno going on in the Seen Better Days Inn. I'm the first on the scene. Geraldo, take this gun in case I need some backup."
Minutes later.........
"This is Geraldo reporting. We are approaching the second floor of the Seen Betters Days in on Palmdale Boulevard. If you can see up ahead (points ahead. Geraldo is shirtless, covered in mouthwash. He hasn't slept in days. He has been surviving strictly on a diet consisting of Vaseline and flies. He uses the Vaseline to catch the flies.) There appears to be three Germans directing some sort of video. There are two topless men on the bed standing there motionless. Behind them there looks to be a, a, a California version of Dracula is behind them, holding them all hostage? I can't tell. We're going in closer (Geraldo is now scantily clad) He is wearing what appear to be vintage Blu Blockers, an obvious sign of insanity. Who wears sunglasses at night anyway, let alone Blu Blockers? Why he is holding them hostage, we don't know. Officer McDuck is slowly roller-skating up the steps, where he will attempt to disarm the enraged vampire. If you can listen closely, we can hear the gunman speak."
"Fuck this shoot is terrible you bastards. Who wants to buy any of this shit! Norman Mailer, if he could see this. You slumlords of rayon! I don't want to know how lonely that swimming pool out there looks in the morning. The Mexican will skim the pubic hair off the top of it, look up at us in knowing what went on in here! I won't be able to look him in the eyes! The Continental breakfast is in room 134. They don't even have a lobby! Remember....134 is where her finger was cut off! You think I want to eat breakfast there! I knew why the sheets were covered in plastic. She wanted to let one loose on Kian, and I just couldn't have none of that! Maybe she couldn't hold it. Maybe she couldn't help it. At the end of the day, no 32-year-old man should be married to an 87-year-old woman. I don't care how nice she is. I'm out of here!"
I walk through the front door and turn the corner as the silence of the German's "Schizer!" echoes through the hotel hallways.
"Freeze dickwad!" Launchpad screams at me.
"Launchpad, I knew it would come down to this! You've finally got me where you want me. But you're wearing those pink roller-skates, and I'll never go down this way!"
"Not if I can help it!" Officer Launchpad McDuck had been subscribing to L'Uomo Vogue his whole life. He had all of our model trading cards, and just could not bare it. Filled with jealousy and rage, he pulls the trigger. Geraldo chokes on his Vaseline and fly suit. "Now that's News!" He gobbles.
It's a good thing I was wearing my eye patch. The bullet could have gone through my now fertilized brain. "You missed! Launchpad you pig!"
"Next time Inspector Dick. Next time!" Launchpad shakes his fist in the air. The gun had jammed with Vaseline and fly juice. Geraldo had forgot to press record and I'm done with this job anyway. There won't be a next time.
Minutes Later.....
"This is Geraldo reporting, we are in pursuit of Jake and the Cactus Crew. They have robbed the Advanced Lube Store. There are six of them on rusty Huffy's up ahead pulling the Queen Mary's propeller and 2,000 gallons of lube. In this Death Race 3000, Officer McDuck plans on running over the lot of them. Now that's news! Now that's fashion!"
