all the way live #2

al scored tickets to a john mayer show in cleveland…so why not? it would allow us to do what we do best…like creatures in their natural habitat, if you will.

well? will you? you know…come on, don’t be stuck up. you know you want to.

right right…do what we do best. i find john mayer to be entirely unenjoyable and thoroughly devoid of the capacity to rock. his music is a lighter shade of dave matthews vanilla and his lyrics reveal an astonishing level of mental inertness…just the kind of gig that would no doubt attract hordes of young females. digging claws into this type of music fan is exactly what attracted al to the show. i went along because the venue was huge with a big parking lot…sure to attract surly types peddling all kinds of fantastic chemicals. or at least some cheap acid.

when you pull into these joints, some high school kid is making probably $10.00 an hour to tell you how and where to park your car like a sardine in a crushed tin. fuck them. al stomped the brakes and gas, cut the wheel, and slid in sideways, immediately cutting the engine and laying on the horn. when they threw a fit and threatened to have us towed, he said the car was in disrepair and would be impossible to start again at such short notice. some nonsense about a clogged manifold, flooded radiator, and a blown ‘o’-ring. besides, there was a chain of cars snaking it’s way behind us, and these parking morons probably couldn’t wait to join their mouth-breathing brethren for the evening’s concert. they looked like the type…and the jedi-mind-trick of an argument left them scowling and walking down the line to park the next hump.

we needed the sideways space to stretch out and throw garbage.

after five or thirteen drinks, i began to solicit [quite vocally, i might add] for narcotics. al had been doing his thing since he fell out of the car, but quickly fell into a dark and violent despair over the lack of his type of woman [read: females over 20]. annoyed with the slim pickings, al began to berate me about my lack of “couth and gentlemanly etiquette.” he believed it was my call for drugs that was scaring the girls away and not his stained paints, unlit cigarette, or foul and fetid demeanor. really, who wouldn’t want a ride on the slow-motion trainwreck that is his life? filthy bastard…

no booze for him!

he felt it necessary to repeatedly heart-punch me at erratic but frequent intervals. my speed and grass intake turned me into a blithering hyperactive paranoid and i was certain – certain i tell you – that my heart would be thrown into some kind of defibrillation by this ham-fisted scumbag. at that point, i did what any man would do when faced with a situation that could bring a real shitstorm down on an unsuspecting populace: i locked him in the trunk of his car until i could find something to call him down. i flagged down a wild-eyed mexican kid who had nine hits of paper that he assured would “trip my face off.” i was sold…this was just what al needed.

while i's taking a leak on the trunk of his car, i heard an ungodly groan and a maniacal banging from within the car. good god! i wondered…could he have taken someone’s hapless daughter with him into the trunk? certainly not…he had merely managed to kick out the back seat and was crawling his way towards the steering wheel. time to go!

so, if you want to find out about john mayer, don’t. from what i recall, the audience was dressed horribly and behaved miserably…all types of fratwear and sandals and hemp necklaces, which – by the way – do not get you stoned if you rip it off someone named Tad’s neck and smoke it.