Hi! Dave Brockie here.
Due to popular demand (and me continuing
to do stupid things), I have decided to continue to
chronicle my asinine antics for generations to revel in! I shake my fist at the eye
of our baneful creator and proclaim with slurred and heavy tongue--I AM STUPID, AND I AM NOT AFRAID!!!!!
Jan 28, 2011 Is was talking to my friend on the phone while wiping down the kitchen. Suddenly I couldn't hear my friend and my ear was getting wet. Realized I was rubbing my phone on the wall while holding a sponge to my ear.
Jan. 24th, 2011 Over last year have lost three cameras, four debit cards, and a countless number of phone chargers.
Jan 15th, 2011 Found lost chunk of hash in couch. Tried to smoke it (unsuccessfully). Finally realized it was a chunk of chocolate pretzel.
Jan 10th, 2011 Responded to news of friends suicide with email meant for someone else. Told heartbroken ex-boyfriend of the deceased to "Have a Happy New Year".
Nov. 15 2010 I go to FOX studios in LA to do an Oderus appearance on The Daily Grind. They have requested that I go on without the Cuttlefish, and thats no prob, except that I forgot the Mangina. So I have to make do with a motley selection of woefully inadequate thongs and tranny dick-flatteners. I manage to get my real package hidden, and then go to stage. As soon as the production assistant sees me she goes beet-red and says something like "Are you sure you are supposed to go on like that?", to which I reply "why certainly!" I make my way onto the set where a 100-strong studio audience takes one look at me and bulges 200 eyes out of their sockets. Well, thats ok, people freak when they see Oderus, though it did seem a little more extreme than it usually was. But I shrug it off and make my way through the rest of the hour-long show. It goes well, but I can't help but notice an uncomfortable feeling in the air...
After the shoot was over I walked back to my dressing room, wondering why nobody was talking to me...until I behold myself in the full-length dressing room mirror.
My entire nut-sack is hanging out of my improvised banana-hammock. I had been unknowingly exposing myself to easily 100 people for over an hour.
March 29, 2010 Thinking that direct messages were private, I posted my new cell phone number on Twitter.
March 28th, Slave Pit. Parked my truck in the lot. Went inside to work but ended up doing about 20 bong hits instead. Just then Gorman came in and asked me why I had parked my truck against his bumper. Had left emergency brake off and the truck out of gear, so it had rolled across the parking lot and into Bob's truck. If he had not been parked there it would have continued into the street and down the hill, gaining speed the whole way, until it killed someone. So I guess I was lucky. Stupid, but lucky....
Feb. 16th, 2010 -- Am alarmed by a recent rash of stupidity. To whit-- sitting at the drive-thru window at the bank, I realize I don't have my phone or the coffee I had just bought. I panic and drive off without completing my transaction, fly down the street and pull into the quickie-mart where I see my beloved and brand-new iphone laying in the middle of the parking lot. I jump out and grab it, and can plainly see the imprint of my trucks tires all over the casing.
So that's what I ran over!
Completely pissed (you can't get insurance on an iphone), I then go over to my friends house to buy weed. Getting there, I realize I have left my money and i.d. at the bank. Have to drive all the way back across town to my bank, then drive back to my friends, get the weed, and leave, backing into a trash can on the way out.
Thank god for the crush-proof phone case, as after about 20 minutes my phone miraculously turned back on.
Feb. 16, 2010... Was at the bank and was approached by a couple dudes in a van full of home theater sound equipment. They offered to sell me a 3000.00 surround sound unit for the remarkable price of "whatever I had in the bank". We settle on 350.00 and I drive off with a box full of gear. When I get home I immediately make Derks install it. When he tries to power the unit up...nothing happens.
Realizing I have been ripped-off, I fly into a rage, pivoting to my left with a cry of anguish, knocking my brand-new giant Mocha five-dollar coffee off the table and all over the fucking floor.
Stupid update Feb 15th 2010 After posting a "Stupid" update about getting ripped off on some stereo equipment, discovered the power button was on the back and we had been trying to turn on the off switch. The unit works great!
Nov. 16, 2009. In the luggage bay beneath the bus, I mistake Derks' bag for that of my own. As I put on some plaid shorts, I wonder where the hell I got these unrecognizable garments. A few days later Derks finally asks me why I have been wearing his clothes for the past week.
Feb. 22nd, 2009. I am at the gym. No, thats not the stupid part! O.K., my new favorite toy is my Kindle! It's an electric tablet thing that downloads content from the internet...everyday I get the Washington Post! Its great for reading in crowded bus bunks or while rocking the Stairmaster (gotta keep the cottage cheese off this nice ASS of mine...). Well, I am done with the Stairmaster and working my way through the machines...I sit down in the overhead press and set the Kindle (look it up if you don't understand) on a bar of the machine. I lift the manly weight...and the counterweight moves down...right into the space my Kindle is occupying, completely crushing the screen it and sending it to the floor, where it lays in a useless heap...
7/14/2008 Drunk as hell. Fall down on hidden stump. Break three ribs! Pass out in bush. Wake up and try to drive to the hospital. Drive van off road and collapse out door into median. Barely remember cops. Somehow don't get arrested! Finally make it to hospital, don't remember how! Have to stay up all night with a catheter up my dick. At one point I call the nurse a "fucking cunt". 9 weeks to heal! Yippie!
From ever since the new Wendy's commercials started coming out until now-- Thought that the guy with the red wig on the Wendy's commercials was some reference to Pippi Longstockings! Said so loudly on many occasions "Why is a cross-dressing Pippi Longstocking on the new Wendy's commercial?". No one ever corrected me! Didn't figure it out until I was studying the cup my Frosty was in. And that brings us to another problem--does being a Frosty include the cup, lid, and straw? Or is the only thing that qualifies as being a Frosty is the actual Frosty mixture? To even think about shit like this (much less write about it) is pretty stupid!
July 9th, 2007. Walk up to a table full of dudes playing cards and say “are you guy’s playing cards?”
July 7th, 2007. On tour with Sounds of the Underground (no, that’s not the stupid part). Am walking back from the stage across a huge concrete expanse, headed back to the bus before the show. Notice a van parked by the fence which borders the area. I see some movement in the driver’s seat and see someone inside the van is gesturing to me. Thinking it is one of the opening bands saying hi, I energetically mimic sucking a cock. I don’t know, that’s just me being funny! Suddenly and with considerable horror I realize this is no band van! This is the runner, who drives the bands back and forth between the buses and the stage. Even worse, it’s an old woman! She offered me a ride, I offered a suck job! The stupid part is she doesn’t have a cock.
July 4th, 2007. Setting up for the first gig in Dallas. Realize my old buddies from S.O.T.U. 2005, Everytime I Die, are parked next to us. Walk up to their load-in and start talking with my “old buddies”. It takes about ten minutes for me to realize that these guys are on the local crew, are not in the band, and don’t have a fucking clue as to who I am or what I am talking about.Why did it have to go on for ten minutes? Couldn’t someone have just said “dude, we don’t know you!”
June 30, 2007. 10:00 at night. Going crazy in Richmond trying to get everything done before we leave. Rush over to Jeremy’s house to check out some samples for the intro. I’m running late and rolling with my buddy Mantis (Scott K.). We pull up in front of his house in a screech, leap out of the car, bound up the steps and through the front door with Scott at my heels. We make it as far as the living room before:
“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE!” I am confronted by a very irate man who looks like he’s about to slug me or worse. There is a moment of confusion, much bellowing and then thankfully the realization by all parties that we have entered the wrong house by mistake. Bowing and scraping, we back out before we get shot.
Somewhere in Europe: Laying in my bunk jacking it. It’s been a few days so it’s a real corker, ya know the kind that starts shooting everywhere before you even feel it. Well, I’m really having a good one, arched back, open mouth and all, in the pitch blackness of my bunk, when all of a sudden I feel a salty glob of man-cum hit me square in my gasping mouth-hole, landing right in the middle of the tongue and rolling down my throat before I could say “Zarathustra”. Not stupid just kinda gross.
Older Stupid shit
Feb 16th, 2007 Leave a huge glass of milk on the headboard, right next to my laptop. Forget about them and start having sex. Rock the bed so violently that I knock both of them off the headboard. The milk goes right into the middle of the bed, drenching the sheets, covers, pillows, and us both. The laptop plummets to the floor, breaking the CD drive.
Dec. 9th, 2006 During the GWAR show at the Canal Club, motivated purely by jealousy, I mouth off about how my old buddies Lamb of God are a bunch of rock star dicks. Sorry, guys.
Nov. 25th, 2006. After a long stretch of GWAR shows, we are in Los Angeles at a really cool hotel called the Sportsman's Lodge. I have been pretty sober on this tour but seeing as we had two days in a row off (unprecedented!) I had been up all night partying on a variety of illicit substances, so I'm pretty rough. And I really need to take a crap. As I wait for our room to be ready I seek out the lobby bathroom to dump what is sure to be a wretched load of diseased feces into the nether-regions of this Earth. As I flop heavily onto my throne, my cellphone falls out of my hoodie and somehow ends up in the toilet. Of course I don't realize this and proceed to take a shit onto my cellphone. After all the crap is finally out of my ass, I wipe, stand up, and inspect my turd. Why is it blinking at me? It's the screen of my cellphone, blinking it's last as it quickly dies.
Sep. 16th 2006--- Misplace a jewelry box of precious family heirlooms. Not so stupid but I forgot I misplaced them or that indeed I was capable of forgeting that I misplaced them. So I become instantly convinced that they have been stolen--stolen by one of my girlfriends buddies---and the person is there when I realize it, and I basically accuse them of it, and start blaming my long-suffering girlfriend as well. Completely mystified and fairly offended they split and I plunge myself into a several day long abyss of calling up people for pity and drinking heavily. Ignoring all pleas for reason, I call cops, move out my belongings, and start looking for a new place to live. Finally I realize I am insane and start to calm down. My gal is cool enough to forgive, and we start to heal...and then she finds the box where I had hidden it behind a bunch of boxes. Not just stupid, but STUPID ASSHOLE....
Feb. 16, 2006. O.K. I haven't updated the site in almost a year, but that doesn't mean I stopped doing stupid things. So here's a quick overview of stupid events just to get us up to speed.
1) I was eating dinner at a fancy restaurant, admiring the décor and of course looking at what everybody else was eating. Got up to go to the bathroom and walked straight into a glass wall.
2) Attempted to apply roll-on while still wearing my shirt.
3) Left two commissions -in-progress on the tour bus, never to see them again.
4) Was fascinated by a bird on my neighbor's mailbox. Stared at it until I realized it was made out of wood.
5) Three in the morning, completely wasted. Decide it would be a good idea to go to the store and buy Pizza Bites. A block from my house I wreck my car, crushing the transmission and cracking the frame. Leave the car in a broken heap and stumble home.
6) There's a lot more but I'm too stupid to remember.
August 6th, 2004. We're grilling on the porch and it's looking yummy. So yummy, that I think the bubbling sausage grease is gravy. I scoop up a spatula-full and ram it into my mouth, horribly burning my upper lip.
Last six months. Didn't update site since January, forgetting much of the stupid and therefore hilarious stuff I have done.
Jan 15th 2004. Just because it's called "dishwashing liquid", doesn't mean it belongs in your dishwasher.
Nov. 28th I'm eating one of those fake beef tenderloins you get at Wal-Mart. You know the kind with several lumps of meat wedged together in a rough circle and then wrapped with a piece of slimy bacon. I love 'em, two for three bucks! So I'm getting my eat on when a feel a stabbing pain in my lower jaw. Convinced it's "only a bone", I BITE DOWN HARDER ON IT. The steel pin they use to bind the meat, driven by my own beast-like manidibles, gouges into my flesh and then bone with a horrid grinding sound. I spit blood for twenty minutes, and days later I still have a swollen and painful lump inside my mouth that aches anytime I talk or eat.
Nov. 23rd Been working on a painting job for many days straight without doing anything too stupid. UNTIL. Throughout the course of one day (the last day on the project), I do the following--cut myself on a storm window, spill an entire bucket of paint into the lawn, hose off windows leaned up against a wall of wet paint (resulting in paint running off wall), don't realize my hose run-off is sending a stream of water right into the spilt paint, sending it in turn across the lawn, and then cut another finger (this time a bloody mess) while retreiving some loose razor blades that some idiot (me) recklessly left in the tool box. As I stand there applying direct pressure to my wound, a lens from my glasses pops out of the frame of it's own accord, landing directly in a bucket of paint. The stupid part? My boss STILL didn't fire me.
Nov. 17th. Lately I've been fighting off the squirrels in my back yard with the help of my trusty paintball gun. I haven't hit one yet but it scares the shit out of them. So anyway I'm out in my Troll Shack puttering about with my painting or actually just staring off into space. My friends are inside drinking beer and having fun. Watching them through the back window, I decide to have some too. Hoisting my weapon, I unleash a fullisade of paintballs at the window, relishing the report of the co2-powered gun and the splats of the exploding paintballs. I lower the still smoking pistol and slowly begin to realize what I have done is incredibly stupid. One of the paintballs broke the window and showered the occupants within with broken glass. Someone could have easily been seriously injured. They're pissed, but not overly so, knowing that of course I am a fucking idiot..
Nov. 2nd. My friend Dave comes over and asks me if I can follow him across town so he can drop off a van, and then drive him back. I say sure, just put some gas in my van. He says sure and tells me to meet him at the local Exxon. I'm still kinda pissed about the Exxon Valdez, but I say sure. So he takes off, but before he does I write down the directions to where we are going in case we get split up. Then I drive to the gas station and wait for him to show up. About 10 minutes later he's still not there. I then realize I'm at a Sunoco. The Exxon is down the street. I drive off in a rush and find him there. We put gas in my car. Then I realize I've left my gas cap back at the other gas station. We go back there and retrieve it. Finally we set off. Of course we get split up. But thats OK, I've got my directions. WRONG. They are back at the house. I have no alternative but to go back and get them. When I get there, Dave is parked outside my house. We go back inside and do bong hits, abandoning our project altogether.
Oct. ???(Can't remember date--stupid!) Before a DBX show in Richmond, I drink NINE shots of Jager in about 10 minutes, lurch on to stage, smash my bass to splinters, gouge my eye until blood pours down my face, refuse all medical treatment, and finally run off screaming into the night. The stupid part was that I broke my mini-TV.
On the old site I used to have this thing called "Stupid", and damned if it wasn't one of the more popular pages. The idea was this: for a year straight I would catalog every single act of stupidity I committed. Hopefully I would create such a litany of failure that I would shame myself into not being stupid. You notice I say "not stupid" as opposed to "smart". Well, it was a stupid idea to begin with because I stopped updating it and eventually forgot about it altogether. But not because I stopped doing stupid things, believe me. But you good fuks wouldn't let me forget how stupid I was (am). How you longed for those deep belly-laughs as you read about my downstairs neighbor's roof collapsing because I left the bath running all night or how my attempt at opening a latched door with the front tire of my bike (while riding it) sent me head-first into a pile of beer cans. And frankly I can't blame you--that shit is funny! So I am proud to present the brand new "Stupid" page! A collection of the most asinine and idiotic moments from my past, present and whatever else there is. Here's an example:
June 20th, 2002. Off to L.A. First of all I have to fly there. I never fly without valiums or xanex or something to knock my ass out. Not because flying freaks me out, I just like doing drugs. Well I am not so stupid as to take my medicine before my connection, right? WRONG. So as we rocketed skywards in our flying bomb, I reasoned that since the first stop was in Charlotte, a mere hour away, I would still be fairly lucid. WRONG. I wake up an hour later on the ground in Charlotte, a stewardess poking me repeatedly in the arm. My mouth tastes like shit for reasons I'll explain later. The entire plane is devoid of passengers. Somehow I lurch out of the craft, ignoring the slurred comments of the crew (ever had slurred hearing?) and stumble to my next flight. I manage to get to my seat and then it's lights out, falling asleep before the plane even takes off, with my seat in the upright position. I wake up five hours later on the ground in L.A. A different stewerdess is poking me this time and there is actually a red mark on my skin. Apparently I have been snoring the entire time and continually leaning up against the lady next to me, my hideous "mouth-breath" enveloping half the plane in a cone of stink. Slobber coats my chin. Collecting my snacks, I split. Then it's off to Cabo for a golf tournament (don't ask me, I only work here). By the time I get there I'm so drunk that in short succession I : knock over tables, smash glasses, blow kisses, claim to admire people and then forget their names, and then continue to call them the wrong name after being corrected repeatedly. Finally my host leads me out to the beach where I can no longer hurt myself or anyone else. WRONG. I leap into the ocean at four A.M., the ocean that we were warned about from the get-go not to swim in at night because of the vicious undertow. The security guards who have been tailing me let me go, hoping I will die. I wake up the next day to the pokings of yet another service industry person. I'm face-down on the beach and covered in bug-bites. I've lost my shoes and everybody hates me.
O.K., that's pretty easy, right? But this page will have another feature, absolutley FREE! Actual photographic evidence of me doing stupid things! Check it out!
Here I am in Muncie, Ind., playing a show with D.B.X. I know playing in Muncie on a Sunday is pretty stupid but that's not the stupid part. The stupid part is TAKING ACID right before you go on stage and then putting your head in a kick drum for about a half an hour (notice my sweaty underwear). Plus check out my multi-colored legs. Who says the Irish don't tan?
Here I am in a drunken rage hurling my friend Tommy to the floor of a bar in Chicago. Tommy broke his hand and lost his cell phone. I laughed, but felt stupid later. Thanks Johnny Chainsaw for the photo!
O.K. So the page is back and will be updated as quickly as I do new stupid things and then get around to writing about them.. We'll let this run for one year starting today, July 5th, 2002.
July 24th. Realize I was supposed to end this stupid thing on July 5th.
July 3rd. While talking on cell phone, become convinced I have lost my cell phone.
June 26th. I eat a leisurely dinner, not knowing I have left my car door wide open in the crowded parking lot.
June 15-30th At the job site I : pour a bucket of paint-filled water into the street, continually paint things the wrong color, try to clean oil brushes with water, pour dirty paint thinner into the bushes, almost get fired.
June 3rd. Two friends and myself are trying to park a car in LA. We find a spot and I go to read the sign. It says quite clearly that parking is allowed. A man standing there assures me it's OK to park there. When we come back later, there is a ticket on the car. We go to read the sign. It says quite clearly that parking is not allowed. A man standing there tells me it's not OK to park there.
May 15th. Trying to compliment a beautiful woman by telling her she looks like Johnny Depp.
April 30th. Buy a lawn mower. Rather than just drive up and pick it up, I load it on to a cart, push it all the way to my van (left the lights on), load it into the back, walk all the way back to the store to return the cart,, then all the way back to my van.
April 23rd. Everytime I go to Wal-Mart (which is every fucking day) I see the same guy there. It happens like three times so finally I mention it to him. He just looks at me weird. Turns out that he works there.
April 8th. Forget which locker at the gym I put my clothes in. Spend half an hour looking in every locker possible. Become convinced that either someone stole my clothes or locked them up. Incredibly confused, I walk back to my van, only to discover my bag in the front seat.
March 27th. Drive into gas station and stick the gas nozzle in the tank, setting the handle to auto-pump. Wander across the street to buy a Red Bull. Come back, hop in, and start engine. Am about to drive off when I hear screaming behind me. Always remember to turn off pump and remove nozzle from tank before you fire up the engine. Anyway I almost blow up.
March 12th. While sitting down after a hearty dog-walk, I noticed a mushy brown substance encrusting my shoe. I rubbed it between my fingers and put it up to my nose. At this point I realized it was dog shit.
Feb. 26. Despite designing my own website for several years, I still fail to be able to utilize my web-design software at any more than a rudimentry level, and have actually forgotten how to make links.
Feb. 20th. Left for a trip to D.C. to see a friend. Heard there was a snowstorm coming, but went anyway. Well, it snowed for about 3 days straight and my van got buried. I tried to dig it out the first day but after a considerable amount of labor I couldn't get the damn thing to budge. So the next day I hired some kids to dig it out and they did a fine job. I hopped in the Sea-Slut (affectionate nickname for my van) and proceeded to fire her up, confident of success. Well, the engine was dead. Seems I'd left the transformer on. So I got it jumped and gave it the gas. Still no go! I couldn't figure it out--I mean it looked like it was dug out all the way....arrrr...nothing to do but go back to the Atom Pad and get high. The next day it was actually kinda sunny so I figured I would just let the shit melt. I went out there with Adam and cranked it up. Or rather I tried to as the thing was dead again. Guess I'd left something else on. We finally get it fired up and STILL the thing won't budge. Then Adam asks me if the emergency brake is on. Of course it is--all the way to the floor. I take it off and the van practically flys out of there.
Feb. 13th. Pretty much leave my van's lights on everytime I park it..
Feb 3. I was walking down the street in Richmond, Va., about to "enjoy" the perfrormance of one of the few touring bands that ever come here (The Donna's, and sure they sound O.K. but for fuck`s sake be your own band god I'm so fucking SICK of this re-hashed BULLSHIT) but anyway, I'm walking down the street. I see this black guy coming up to me and it looks like he's going to speak to me. Horrified, I hold up a hand and dismiss him with an obnoxious lack of empathy. Of course I assume he is not only homelesss but trying to GET SOMETHING FROM ME, and also on crack and drunk and probably mentally ill but definitely DANGEROUS. But he doesn't relent and instead presses in closer despite my best attempts at avoiding him on all levels. I continue my superior demeanor and pray to whitey-god that this crazy BLACK person will leave me alone...but to my ever-lasting shame and suprise this shambling horror of the night gets within arms reach and ACTUALLY SAYS MY NAME. Turns out it's an old buddy of mine who is in town working with The Donna's, and he's not too happy that I have mistaken him for a bum. I feel like a stupid asshole. Feel like? Am one.
Jan. 23rd to 30th. Bought new type of shampoo. Used it for a week, not understanding why it never foamed up and seemed to make my hair dirtier. Finally realized that it was a bottle of hair gel, not shampoo.
The night of Jan. 15th or therabouts. Fell asleep while wearing teeth-whitening strip. Woke up -- teeth hurt. Plus there was a hole burned into my gums.
Dec. 29th. This one is not so much stupid (yes it is) as it is pathetic and lucky. They say God protects drunks and fools and I'm both so I guess that's some kind of double protection and here's the proof. I'm in D.C. for the Redskins-Cowboys game. Somehow my beloved Skins eke out a sloppy victory so I am course equally sloppy. The straight-edge kid who works at the sandwich shop that we gave the extra ticket to is in utter disbelief as I drunkenly lecture him about the benefits of booze and pill-popping. We pile into the car and I am behind the wheel. STUPID. I'm drunk as shit just all of my friends are afraid of me or rather they enjoy watching me fuck-up. As we slowly inch out of the packed lot, I lean on the horn constanly and scream out the window while drinking beer, smoking pot, and snorting drugs. To my horror I look up and see a cop about ten feet away staring straight at me, joint in my mouth, smoke billowing out of the car. He marches right up and thrusts his head into window.
"Have you been drinking?" he demands.
"NO SIR!" is my bellicose reply, oblivious to the huge beer between my legs which the cop is staring at.
"Have you been smoking pot?" he says, incredulous at my idiocy.
"Oh no sir", I gasp, feigning severe hurt, oblivious to the HUGE BAG OF DOPE hanging out of the ashtray. But can it get worse? YES!
Inexplicably I take my foot of the brake and try to drive off, getting about five feet before traffic cuts me off.
"Put the car in park and get out!!!!!" screams the cop.
It suddenly hits me that I am going to jail. I get out of the car and throw my hands into the air. But fate's fool am I, and my patron lord of chaos deigns to smile. The cop ignores me and grabs the pot. He dumps some out, then seems to notice how good it is and crams it in his back pocket.
"Anybody in there sober?" he barks.
Adam is (though he is all hopped-up on goofballs), and seconds later I have been bundled into the back seat of MY CAR and set free to continue my rampage through existence.
Nov. 24, Drove to D.C. to renew my Alien Registration card. When I got there they told me I had to go to Norfolk.
Nov. 22, 2002 While sitting at the bar, became momentarily convinced a large-screen T.V. was a window.
Oct-Nov. 2002 GWAR Tour. Did plenty of stupid stuff, just forgot to write it down.
Aug. 16, 2002 Play a show in Miami Beach. Go down to beach at about 5:OOam. Yes, of course I am drunk. My friend convinces me to swim out to a far-off sand-bar with him. It's about 500 yards offshore, no bullshit. I STUPIDLY agree, and start swimming out there. About halfway out, I notice my buddy has swum back to shore! At this point I'm getting tired so I decide to keep going to the sandbar so I can rest a little before heading back. When I get there I discover the sandbar is 10 feet underwater. All I can do is cling to a buoy and catch my breath. But the buoy, made of rusty sheet metal, begins to scrape and lacerate my body, which begins to ooze blood into the water--the dawn water, feeding time--and then I remember all the shark attacks Florida has had lately. Obviously I made it back, though later I felt pretty stupid. LUCKY, but stupid.
The last several years--Have had rashy ass and bloody turds. Was afraid it was cancer so never went to the Doctor. The pain became unenjoyable, finally went to Doctor (the). Found out it was an easily treatable hemmorhoid.
July 4th, 2002--While drunk, attempt to explain the movie "Bamboozled" to a table full of black people.
July 2nd, 2002--I know a lot of the "stupid" entries are a result of my drunk behavior. Well, it may be relieving for you to know that I do plenty of stupid shit while sober. To wit--driving back from D.C. late one night with my friend Tim (not too bright either), I notice I am running low on gas. I pull over at a gas station, use my credit card and leave the pump running. Then it's inside to stare at snack food. Then it's back out when I'm sure the pump is done. We jump in and hit the road. About 20 minutes later I notice that the gas gauge is still on empty. Did I drive off without getting any gas? Impossible! I could never be that stupid! It must be my fuel sensor that is wrong. Anyway we argue about what it could be, rather than get more gas, because I am so sure that I pumped it already. I mean didn't the fuel pump say 15, or 1.50, or something? Why is the engine shutting off? Why won't it start? Why am I so stupid?
STAY TUNED FOR MORE STUPID SHIT!
Now I tried to find the old "stupid" text's, but have lost a lot of them (stupid!) Here's what I could find. If anybody has archived any of the old stuff, please put it in the guestbook!
(here's some stupid shit from the DBX 2003 tour)
Chicago Were taking shots from the audience. Theyre giving me shots of Jägermeister on stage, and Im doing shots then playing. Im already pretty drunk, and then someone sticks up another shot of a clearish, brown liquid. I smell it, and I know its Tequila, but I do it anyway. It immediately makes me vomit all over my feet. For like three or four songs in a row, between every song its Blaaaaaah. Played the whole set in a puddle of vomit.
Milwaukee Stain underpants in the mens room and throw them out in the bathrooms trashcan. Anyone can have an accident, but the stupid part came later when I told the people in the crowd that Id thrown my underwear away in the bathroom and had them go get the trashcan. So they brought the trashcan up to the stage, and I dug through five layers of other peoples garbage before I found my underwear in the bottom of the trashcan. I fished out my soiled underwear and threw them up into the ceiling fan. They caught in the ceiling fan and it was going round and round with a big turd stain on it.
Salt Lake City - Im standing outside the club. Kottonmouth Kings are playing upstairs, some stupid pot rock band. All these hot chicks are showing up, and this totally hot chick is walking by, shes just smoking. Im standing there and she walks by and she actually says Hi. And so I looked at her, and I just say the word Night. Im like trying to say Its a nice night or Have a nice evening but it just comes out as Night. Then I turn around and go Oh, my God. I sit down and she leaves.
I go to fill up the sink in my apartment to do dishes. I know some of you harbor visions of me in a super rockstar mansion, but what I really got is this crappy apartment where bums are known to sleep down in the laundry area. I go back to the bedroom for a second, and begin looking at my girlfriends naked body (which is cool). One thing lead to another but then theres a knock on the door. Its the apartment manager, complaining because the ceiling of the apartment below is flooding. I quickly develop an outlandish lie that a pipe mustve burst, but he doesnt believe me, and is eyeing my sink full of dishes. Caught, I fess up.
Here's few old gems sent to me by Devon.
Spend all day skiing, and then cant find my keys. Searching desperately, I finally locate them in my hoodies front pocket, where they easily couldve fallen out at any point in the day or on the mountain.
Im riding my bike to the studio to work on the latest GWAR album. As Im nearing the studio, I think wouldnt it be cool if I rode I into the studio? Through the door, down the hall, and into the recording area, to be greeted by thundering applause by the approving other members of the band. As Im nearing the front door with visions of well-deserved cheers in my head, I suddenly remember Doesnt the front door open outwards? And even if it doesnt, arent the doors always locked? With milliseconds to go before impact, I careen to the side, and crash into a pile of garbage.
Monday, February 26, 2001
I'm actually a little disappointed to say that I haven't really done anything too stupid lately. On the plus side life has been functioning more smoothly and things have been getting accomplished at a more rapid clip. Good, right? WRONG. Not doing stupid things means not having stupid things to write about. That sucks. Oh sure there have been a few things here and there. One day last week I left my office trashcan too close to a heater and melted a hole in the side. And I locked my keys in my house not once but twice. But nothing like the first part of the year. The success of the project is starting to make it not funny anymore. So what can I do to up the ante?
Talk about stupid things I've done in the past! From now on, if I don't have a sufficiently uproarious idiotic incident I will dredge out a choice dumb-nugget for all to marvel at. Tales from my past as I continue my attempts to shame and humiliate myself into not being such a tard-ass. So as this update was not (so-far) a non-stop laugh riot we delve into the murky chasm of times divide
GWAR is flying to Europe. I start drinking hours before. In the airport bar I'm sauced and it gets worse as the flight begins. I get cut off pretty quickly so I just walk up to the galley area and steal as much miniature booze as I can carry without "tinkling" too much. Then it's back to my seat to get smashed. At some point I stand up, give the devil horns to the gaping passengers, and scream "Satan". Then something horrible happens in the bathroom. I think I tried to fuck Danielle, but was too damn drunk. At this point the captain radios ahead that he has a problem passenger. I'm in the back with my pants undone, drooling and lurking the mini-bar. Everyone is complaining, and I am threatened with arrest. That finally gets the point across and I am shown to my seat, where I immediately pass-out. When we arrive we are detained for hours in the airport. The rest of the band hates me for weeks (even years).
The stupid part is that after they finally let us go, I exchanged my money in an airport bank. Don't do that, they'll jack you on the rates!
Feb. 28th. Walked to the store to buy some cream. Bought a bunch of stuff and walked back home. Got inside and realized I hadn't gotten any cream. Walked back. Bought cream. Walked back home. Got inside and realized I'd left the cream at the store. Gave up.
March 2nd. Left heater next to plastic trash can. Result? Huge gooey hole in side of can.
March 3rd. Hurt neck and bit self while masturbating wildly.
March 5th. Here's a great one that I have to take to my grave with me. I got the DBX albums from the label today. You can imagine my pride as I undid the wrapping to gaze upon my record-thing. You can imagine the excitement as I listened to the notes of the first song. Following along with the lyrics, I laughed to myself. It was a conceited chuckle, self-congratulatory and smug. Hahahahaha. I am soooo funny and clever too hehehehe .
But wait! What's this! For some reason the lyrics to the second and third songs are both gone! Like they were never there! Somehow they had disappeared from the layout weeks ago, I had just never caught it. I didn't do the layout, I just supplied the content. But that was no excuse. I was responsible for double-checking and should have seen something so blatantly obvious. So when you wonder why the hell there are no lyrics to the songs "You want to Suck My Dick" and "Pants", you can say, "because Brockie is a fucking idiot!"
March. 24th. Working on the new album and everything is going great. Except for Derk's ever-present head congestion. He's truly miserable and my on-going stoned ravings aren't helping. I as usual have been smoking weed all morning, and I kick back in the control room to listen to some tracks. It's loud, it's fast, it's HEAVY. I spin around in the chair knocking into Derk's almost brand-new Washburn guitar. It falls to the floor. There is an awkward instant as I examine the damage. I see a string has popped, not too bad. I hand it to Derks and he looks more closely, his face darkening in horror. The neck is cracked clean though. On a one-piece body it's grievous injury requiring extensive repair. Practice comes to a shuddering halt. I sit in the room alone for hours, feeling like a complete piece of shit.