memory 84

it is minute something in my life and i press rewind to the moment i humped the ground in my first trip through 2nd grade. this story may be the very reason i was forced to endure a second go round.

this overzealous science prick that taught 7th-8th grade pre biology and chemistry assigned the seventh graders to take cotton swabs of the door knobs of each classroom. they do some shit with the swabs, scanning them or whatever for bacterias, i.e. snot, mucus, entrails and so on. they announced the god damn results over the loud speaker.

now keep in mind i'm seven years deep in the swimming pool, pretty weird and a bit spastic [i put that in bold because because there is a key to this whole incident in its root] . when they announce over the loudspeaker, that indeed mrs. welsh's doorknob had the largest quantity of bacteria, i lost it. i fipped back in my chair and began frying like an egg on the cheap smelly rug beneath me. i was gyrating, humping the floor in pure ecstasy until mrs. welsh came over and yanked me up from the floor. she shook me violently asking, "what's-a-matter with you?" i don't remember what i said back then, but i tell you what i would say now; 

"are you kidding me? we won you dumb bitch!"

spasm is defined as; an involuntary and abnormal muscle contraction. furthermore i would like to stress the idea of involuntary. INVOLUNTARY!

yes,  a bit of an over-reaction to begin to pantomime making love to the vomit stained carpet of my second grade classroom. that's a given. but lets be real here: is it grounds to make sure i have to repeat the whole fucking grade? when i was that age, anything vile or gross was of my interest. snot, phlegm, boogers, slime...these things are ingrained into young boys.  pre-pubescent girls reacting with the standard grossed out, "ewwwwww!" only stand make the problem worse. you do these savagely grotesque things to get a reaction, or more to the point attention. i was frail when i was that age, bullied around by bigger kids, so i couldn't play the 'go over there and hit the girl that you like card,' because most of them could kick my ass. being gross was the only way to draw attention to myself, albeit negative attention. so to answer your question, yes i was the kid that ate Elmer's glue, ink all over his mouth at the end of the day, his desk attached to the teachers at the front of the class, fond of spitting loogies up towards the sky then letting them fall brilliantly back in my mouth.

the back of this memory is my first day of second grade for the second time. same school, different teacher. i walk into the classroom, my dad holding my hand. immediately upon crossing the threshold to my new homeroom, Caroline Helton stands up and points her long bony finger at me and says, "Elliott! You got held back!" hearing her say it like that made me feel about as tall as a blade of grass. i grabbed onto my dad's silks pants and bawled uncontrollably as all these kids, a year younger than me watched curiously. they are all thinking to themselves, no wonder he got held back. HELD BACK!

papa patted me gently, picked me up and took me outside. he pulled out his handkerchief and dried my eyes. he told me to be strong 'cause i'm an Armstrong. so i marched back in, my eyes still red from tears and sat at my new desk. i put my head in my arms and felt the cool surface of my desk against my face. i dreamt of third grade.

Zach vs. Slater, Kapowski vs. Spano

one of the least successful pickup lines i've ever used is to ask a girl who she prefers; Zach Morris or A.C. Slater. I used infer a great deal about the girl by their answers. If a girl said Zach, she is obviously looking for a manipulative pansy ass with a nice car, feminine looks and enough hair gel to stop time. If a girl said Slater, she wants an alpha male type frat boy with a g-curl who roofies her punch the first time he gets her in the sack. the girls who piqued my interest were the ones who said, "what about screech?" Screech is obviously not worthy of most girls given his horrible fashion sense, squelching hi/lo voice, irritating Jewfro and overall nerdiness. the mere mention of screech is an affirmation that this girl was one that was worth talking to. poor Screech forever annotated as Lisa Turtle's daily restraining order. A girl that excludes themselves from the douchebag paradigm of zach vs. slater is one that is thinking thoughts i can align myself with.

the only other reasonable response to this query is a girl who deflects the question by asking, "kelly or jesse?" again, lisa turtle isn't even mentioned. but i have to be honest, growing up it was all Kelly Kapowski. after the show ended and Jesse Spano became a water nympho in Showgirls, you were officially preaching to the converted. looking back, jesse spano was the obvious choice. flawed and strong at the same time, no one can forget the episode where jesse, kelly and lisa get their big break doing a dance/singing routine to the Pointer Sisters, "I'm So Excited," on television. the stress becomes to much for Jesse and she turns to methamphetamines/diet pills to keep herself awake. zach confronts her about her abuse and she exclaims, "I'm So Excited, I'm So Excited, I'M SO SCARED!" Hilarious, no doubt, but it paints a picture of imperfection that i love in women. Jesse was also the portrait of the feminist cause, constantly calling her jock boyfriend a 'pig'. to have her first big role, post opt Saved by the Bell, be a tart showgirl, who strips and cries, then cries and strips was such a departure that kelly kapowski was left in the dust. the love scene between her and Kyle McLaughlin has to be the most overacted scene in movie history. Even the look on Kyle's face in the scene is like, "what the fuck is she doing?" Jesse, aka Elizabeth Berkley has taken on a number of great indie film roles, including a nice turn with Jennifer Beales and Campbell Scott in the indie sleeper hit Roger Dodger. she makes out with an underage kid in this movie....nice!

Everyday, 4pm, Saved by the Bell, would come on TBS. I don't think i've missed a single episode. That show is a part of my genetic makeup. Just to update. Jesse, by far the most successful of the gang, is acting still on TV and film, Screech is making porn, Zach earned critical acclaim on NYPD Blue, Lisa Turtle does small bit parts in black comedies mostly and plays the love interest in various R&B videos, Slater is a reality TV whore, Kelly is doing crap television and Mr. Belding played a pedophile on "Its Always Sunny in Philadelphia."

They made this cheeseball reunion show about Zach and Kelly finally getting married in Vegas. Fuck that! They should've gotten married at THE MAX!

So now i put it to you faithful reader. Who do you prefer? Kelly, Jesse or Lisa? Zach, Slater or Screech? post your answers with a brief explanation and the best answer gets no prize whatsoever!

7X4=nuff said?

what an evening; an enchanting evening it was.


there were residual knots lining the lower region of my stomach, a scarcely visible drear all in eyes because i didn't sleep much the night before. i gotta be honest, i get nervous when i stamp my name on a party and this was by far the most public and risky venture i had attached myself with. my temper was also tried because this was the first birthday party i'd ever had. because of the proximity of my birth to that of JESUS CHRIST'S people weren't usually around as a child to partake in rollerskating rink parties or a trip to the local Chuck E Cheese. as i got older, it became less about the lack of interest in activities of celebration and more about the fact that it was placed between two obnoxiously inebriated holidays effectively draining all my friends essence or desire to partake in boozehounding the night away. so with a tummy of heebie jeebies, the help of some friends and a prayer all my angst was wiped away in one fowl swoop. URRIE!


to make my sweet sixteen a reality i recruited my friend Andy whose birthday falls a day after mine and my friend Meghan, who would bring an even ratio of vagina to penis, for once. Andy ended up inviting his friend Briane to hop on the balanced genitalia team for the big win, whose 27th birthday was the day before mine. further helping the dream was Ezra, who I need to take the time here to thank for securing 111 minna, dealing with the staff, getting the doorgirls and basically doing all the work while the rest of us buzzed off emails and composed ridiculously long guestlists. at that it was born; "HELLA FOLKS BIRFDAY"....I have to credit Andy with the title but as an aside, i urged him to keep it.


as a gift my best friend, Nat aka DJ Morse Code, aka MoCo, agreed to play for next to nothing which left only the expense of promoting the event. Andy made the flyer and we didn't print any, so we only had to pay for the bitchy doorgirls. oh and they were such bitches, it was great.


the day of the event i went looking for an outfit that would make me standout and i found it. i wore a grey cardigan, white dress shirt, a clip on red bowtie, black jeans and red original vans. i looked like a cross between a drunk professor plum, bill nye the science guy and pee wee herman. one of the best ensembles i've ever assembled.


upon arrival at minna there was still some rumbling nerves down south but the static in the air was palpable and gave me a sense of thrill at what might unfold. people arrived early to avoid the cover at the door and by 10:30 the place was filling out nicely with people. remembering always that this was my birthday, i let the dopamine inhibitors flow. it was so great to see such a thorough melding of various worlds. that's what i've always found so great about San Francisco; its the tiny pockets of peoples and worlds you acquire over time. when everyone is in the same room, as an individual its fucking thrilling.



as the night wore on more and more alcohol was being forced in my direction. i would humor almost everyone by taking a deep pound of whatever drink they got me and then find a spot to drop it off, never to be drank again. the only problem with this was that most people want to give you shots on your birthday so by about 11:30 I was toast! Toast! whenever i got that upchuckety urge, that woozy headrolling fervor i simply turned to the good old dopamine inhibiting, wake up juice and some water. everything poured becomes erased! ERASED!



nat went on close to midnight and threw down the bangers till closing. i got up on the stage and did my funny little dance moves in effect trying to hype the crowd with my Tuts, waves and hits. sometimes i look back on the night and i feel embarrassed, like i made a fool of myself. but, then unflinching the alcohol and inhibitors numb my resolve and i'm up in front of everyone making an ass of myself, perhaps.



at two, everyone filed out of Minna, grinning ear to ear, at least that's how i remember it. there was an audible declaration that everyone attend the afterparty at a big house on Fell street. what an eruption of people that turned out to be. more alcohol, more inhibitors, more friends, conversation, laughter, drama, debauchery and me out of my mind. i was there till close to 4:30 when upon much urging by Nat we were supposed to go to some other house to smoke some trees. my friend Tyler, who opened up with a nice set at the beginning of the night approached me and asked where i was going. i don't remember this, but days later he told me i came stumbling down the stoop, my clip on bowtie now dangling off to one side, my hair once smoothly coiffed now spiked out every which way, sweat beating off my brow, my jaw swaying in the breeze, beer spilt on my shirt, eyes dimmed down and my new red vans covered in filth. what a fine picture that must've been! the conversation went something like this;

"uh, where are you going," tyler asked as fragile as a lost puppy.
"i don't know some shit, wherever it snott gunna be fun."
"okay."
"yeah, so you just stay here and catsh cab and I see you later."
"okay."

we ended up at some random house where i preceeded to pass the fuck out and then wake up when the joint came my way. someone offered up a bed and more wake up juice but i declined and placed my filthy, new red shoes on the coffee table and whispered in a birthday girl's ear.

to say it was the best birthday of my life is to downplay the effort, the success. those of us who were there to witness saw that we were better or worse people afterward, from then onward. as Jordan, my roommate commented, I never have a memorable time at Minna, but last night was memorable. it felt good to give a gift while getting the same gift i was giving. i wish my birthday was once a month so i could have an excuse to throw this party all the fucking time.

i gotta say the money ain't bad either.