Don't Eat Barbiturates and Drive, Kids.

So, I know I haven't posted all week, and honestly, I had a few really great ideas at one point, but they completely slipped my mind like boobs in a pool of Jello.

I do, however, have many insane stories in my back pocket, so I figured I'd pop in & share one of those in the meantime, till some of those maybe come flying back to me.

Have you ridden in a car up on a wall?

You should try it. It's exhilarating!

This was an incident that very few pics out there could help in describing, so I doubted myself on if I could draw the scenario out, and this morning it just kind of flowed like wine into Julia Child's cup.

It was a sunny day in Fall, circa 1997. My good friends, whom I guess for legal purposes we'll refer to as Saul & Matty, and myself were having a jolly old time hanging around my homestead.

At one point Saul had decided to take us over to his house in his Impala (which back in that day, was really the pimp of American cars). 

Oh 1997, you're so sexy.
Like, kind of detective with a handlebar mustache sexy.

Before we walked out the door we really had no idea how much Phenobarbital Saul had taken. Just that his current girlfriend had recently turned alternating shades of green & as purple as Violet Beauregarde from one of her binges on a balloon full of "candy" he gave her (which nothing says "Darling, I love you. In fact, so much that I'd like to give you this pretty balloon & see you change colors like a goddamn Iguana." as much) & we probably should have known.

All was good until we got to the rail road tracks (you know, where you're supposed to go 20 mph.), and he floors it & starts going 80, and all of a sudden.......

.

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We're. Driving. On. A. Effing. WALL

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And as I hear the ruckus in the back & quickly look behind me...

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No effing way were his jeans that skinny.
Also, his left leg was way going the other way. Tell Charlie Sheen you can't always win.
Also, I don't know wtf is up with the car here. Just go with it.

Nope, the side of the car wasn't scraping the wall. We were somehow remarkably driving sideways, on a wall, with the car bouncing on the rough stone, pouncing Matty completely around the back seat like a rubber ball, left to right.

It gets better.

We finally escape the wall & Saul turns us onto a side street & decides to turn his head to the back of the car to get a good look at the wall.

I wasn't even messed up, and when I tell you this mofo's face looked as melted as a Van Gogh painting...

Holy Shit!

Lookin' good, man. Lookin'. Damn. F'n. GOOD!!

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.

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So here's where I'm wondering who's watching the goddamn road in front of us & figured maybe it was my job to step in here.

.

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And that's how you could tell the weird shit, bug power or whatever the hell he was on, had taken full effect.

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Is it needless to say I grabbed the steering wheel & swerved us all from certain death or brain damage?

Now, I know what you're thinking & probably going to say.

But that's the thing about good ol' Saul. He's fucking IMMORTAL.

There are HUNDREDS of incidents where the dip shit, by the laws of nature, should have died.

Among those we've literally seen him fall off a cliff, blow his arm up with explosive gas, smash through glass doors, survive 5+ car accidents, wake up naked on his landlord's couch after hours of trudging waist deep through a swamp in the dead of night, getting his ass kicked while naked hiding in the bushes on his front lawn on angel dust, and I don't have all goddamn day here.

In fact, there should be a series or even a book about the wonderful adventures of Saul, the immortal moron.

There were a few others among the crew almost as messed up as Saul, but he takes the golden taco.

(If you ask me what that means, I cannot tell you. I have no idea!)

So, let that be a lesson to you. If you're going to Liza Minnelli it up

 Don't get behind the wheel.

And don't tell me what's possible if you get the right footing.

Also, there could be someone like this where you live.

Have a safe & comfortable weekend!