Exotic-Erotic Ball
October 24, 1998
Saturday Night
I needed to be blasted into the realm of make believe to make all the angst of unemployment disappear. I was tired of sulking at home, so it made perfect sense to attend San Francisco’s Hottest Halloween Bash: The Exotic-Erotic Ball. This event came at the perfect time, because depression had eaten its way through my system. What I really needed was to be immersed in world of multiple personalities, freaky souls with smeared make-up and gelled-up hair, and--of course--the rash of nude crude & lewd dudes & dudettes. Indeed, this is what I got at the Exotic-Erotic Ball.
Marie, Luis, and I attended this event in rather conservative mode. I, for one, donned my traditional Pillsbury DoughBoy Suit--the one that has given me so much attention the previous two years. I realize that guests are expected to dress in an erotic or exotic fashion, but there was no way I was going to peel off the Old-Navy-layer of my body, the one that serves as the extra coating on top of my epidermis. I call it my oldnavermis layer. Given that, I chose to sport the white tyvex suit once again. The irony lies in the fact that this suit, taken from Cell Culture Production--my former employer--served as a constant reminder of my unemployment status. Nonetheless, I extinguished all thoughts of CCP when the white make-up got slapped on my face and the big chef’s hat plunked on my head.
Tom’s Birthday
October 21, 1998
Wednesday
Tom Skikibu’s Birthday...#28. Big day for the big guy. What do we do about it? We celebrate in the old-fashioned CCP way: BOWLING. The graveyard techs arranged this festive event and invited me, the honorary graveyard guy, to join in on the fun. I happily obliged. The itinerary: dinner, bowling, and possibly Bride Of Chucky. Sounded like it was going to be a great evening...and I needed it, after such a horrible day.
My streak of bad luck continued to hit me down in media prep. I had made another stupid error on my documentation, so the whole day my head was in a dark and toxic cloud. Had Lourdes stuck the environmental monitoring probe on my head, it would have picked up some negative particles. Over the past couple of weeks, a series of careless mistakes have dumped my way, grossly slaughtering my credibility. Here I stand in my blue lab coat, blue head, and shoe covers with a giant blue “L” for loser on my forehead. All morning long, I felt as though I was being drowned in 1500L of phosphate buffered solution. This vision continued to haunt me as the day progressed, and the only way to exorcise it was to think about Tom Shikibu. Ironic, isn’t it? Who would have thought that Tom would have that ability to suck out the demons which lurked within my psyche. Nonetheless, thinking about his birthday bash soothed my shaky nerves somewhat.
The day dragged on and on. When the quitting bell finally rang, I eagerly zoomed out of CCP like Fred Flintstone jumped off that dinasaur to punch out. I wanted out of there so bad. I rushed home to pick up my bowling ball and drove straight back to Genentech to meet Marie, Jonathon, Minh, and Tom. When everyone arrived, we decided as a group to go to dinner. After much debate, they decided on The Hot Pot, a cook-it-yourself kinda place. I car pooled Marie and Kelly through the dense Daly City fog, getting lost a few times. Kelly admitted that he is not much of a navigator, so it somewhat felt like Ray Charles telling Stevie Wonder where to go. Of course, it didn’t help to have Mariah Carey on helium sitting in shotgun position picking at her scabs. We drove around a bit, and finally made it.
The dinner itself was pretty good. We coughed up $12 but ate a lot. There were some really funky things on the table, but I was diplomatic about the buffet of international cuisine. I must admit, though, that I felt a bit out of place. It was my first time at this establishment, so I had expected surprises to come my way: and that, indeed, is what I got. The graveyard guys have obviously been there before, for they displayed such dexterity in their cooking skills. Minh, especially, took over as head chef. He amazed me with his ability not only to prepare the food, but to serve it in exquisite fashion. To Minh, it seemed, presentation counts for 2/3 of the cooking experience. When all the food was on the table, all six of us dined away. After 40 minutes, we all achieved gastronomical satisfaction. Ahhhhhh. We paid the bill, and wandered out to the parking lot.
Once again, I car pooled Kelly and Marie through the cold streets of Daly City--and once again, Ray Charles took the wheel as Stevie Wonder navigated while Mariah sat in shot gun position telling stories about her boyfriend. The dense fog dissipated the familiarity of the city creating difficulty for me to find my way around. Nonetheless, the three of us tried our best. As I moved forward, my car trembled, and the unthinkable happened: I ran out of gas.
LATE
Darkness wandered about the house
Pitch black, nothing could be seen
Except for one small light
Like that of one fire fly in a blackout
I sat, reading, writing, suffering
Trapped in a Turkish P R I S O N
Known as a History book,
I studied, reading writing, dying
shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...
I hear
(nothing)
My eyes shut slowly
And slowly
And then,
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
The Moon
The yellow light lasted a mere 5 seconds,
And then it turned to red.
I slowed my vehicle to a stop, and I stared at the rectangular box.
My engine quietly purred as I patiently waited.
I turned my head 180 degrees due west, and I faintly see the moon.
It is a blur, but I nonetheless revel in its beauty.
I see the round object a distance away.
It is white like snow and it shines.
It is full of life and it glows.
It knows the world is watching.
So it beams a big winning smile, grabbing the attention of its spectators.
I rub my eyes so that I could get a better look...
But now I see a different picture.
I still see the same object, but it is now closer.
It is white like paste and it blanches.
It is full of arrogance, and it sports a cocky attitude.
It knows the world is watching,
So it flaunts a smug little smirk, provoking the disgust of its spectators.
I rub my eyes again...
I realized then that that smirk was not a smile.
It was more like an indentation: a CRACK.
The magestic object I was admiring was not the full moon I thought it to be.
It was more like a distant planet: URANUS.
I felt like a fool.
How could I have made such a mASSive error in judgment?
That pseudo-lunar thing was xeroxed in my brain.
I could not get that hideous picture out of my head.
The moon cAN ALways count on the creatures of the night to upstage it.
I looked away in disgust.
The light turned green, and I moved onward.
One last time, I looked back, hoping that it was gone,
But, BUT, BUTT...
That full moon was still there.
Within 6 months, the Doughboy spun completely out of control. Mixed up with the wrong crowd consisting of porn stars, troubled celebrities, and coke fiends, the former Pillsbury Sweetheart self-distructed. He was recently caught on film snorting cocaine with Kate Moss in a London recording studio. All charges against the Doughboy were dropped because he convinced narcotics agents that it was actually flour and not coke that he sniffed. Moss, however, did not get off that easy. Alcohol, too, became a problem. Bottles of cooking sherry suddenly came up missing from every liquor store within a 15 mile radius of the Doughboy's home. However, what killed the Doughboy's career was his insatiable appetite for naughtiness, which ultimately tarnished his wholesome image. The Doughboy swung with the adult industry's sexiest starlets night after night. MTV News even reported that he contracted a yeast infection!
Working on the goat barn was definitely the most physically challenging job I ever had. I am not a physical labor kinda guy, so you can imagine how difficult it was for me. Even though I worked myself to complete fatigue, I thoroughly enjoyed my time there. Helping to deliver that kid in dystocia on April 28, 1993 will go down as one of the most memorable events that has ever happened to me. Amazingly enough, I was able to document that event with pictures. Just for the record, these shots are real--nothing here is photoshopped.
