2003-11-01 - 7:25 p.m.

Hallow-fucking-WEEEN!

Hallow-fucking-ween. What a great night. I�d say if shit were to happen, it�d be generally more accepted that night more than any other.

Last night we went to a party a friend was having, my Keeper went as a Daliesque easel holding a blank canvas and paint that, by night�s end, produced a very bizarre abstract at the hands of the revilers. I wore a bushy goatee and a silky undergarment covered with Freudisisms (my favourite part of the creation was the word �penis� written in the appropriate place, the �s� forming a perfect knob, and a set of balls made from the words, �ID� and �EGO�) � a living Freudian Slip.

I was high before hand, but shit din�t start jumping until midnight, when the chemicals started to take over.

There was a 3� glass and brass hookah and an endless supply of BC�s finest. There was an open bar with Charlie Brown tending. There were �anarchists� and anti-christs, cripples and karate men, drunks, dope-fiends, demons and deities.

Ahhh, Halloween!

Early in the morning we set out � a motley gang of saboteurs armed with custom geared Screecher-oo�s, supplied by yours truly - in the exhausts of big expensive European cars. See, what I do is coat the fuses with a certain household item and coat that with isopropylene. Ya stick that shit fuse side out in a tail pipe and the heat of the running vehicle melts the household item causing the fuse to light. I don�t know why, I don�t know how. I was taught this by somebody else.

When the Screecher-oo ignites it gets shot into the exhaust, towards the muffler, and makes what must be for the vehicle inhabitants a fucking terrifying sound. No real harm done though.

Sitting on the balcony at about 3am we heard something that we thought was one of our bombs and laughed until the tears rolled.

In the pre-dawn morning we started to make our way home and I went outside - all pretty �n shit in my velvety slip - to hail a cab. Walking down the road I come up to these 30 year old Armani-asians standing in their really nice long coats, next to their M3. I pass them and the one I�d pegged as a beligerant asshole starts bellowing Chinese at my back.

I know one phrase of Chinese and it means, �Not only Chinese know Chinese,� and said so when I turned around. I didn�t have a fucking clue what he�d said, but I could tell by the intonation it wasn�t complementary.

He flicks his cigarette down and takes about 3 quick steps towards me, cursing in Chinese. His friends were moving out of the car and I wasn�t having any of this. The best strategy in facing multiple opponents is to take the �alpha� out � as hard and as fast as possible to make an example.

I don�t make his shit up. It�s what it is.

Tonight I was feeling merciful, more because of the weed than me. Without raising my hands or moving from his path I flicked my smoke up at his face and as he raised his hand and ducked to deflect it, I used a Sweeping Palm technique that ended with his face in the roof and his wrist bent with a painful twist. With my free left hand I point at the driver in the white suit who�s out of the car by then.

He raises his hands and says, �My friend was being an asshole. He won�t be any trouble.�

I nod, give the guy a little love twist, smiling with the squeal it produces, and get the cab.

�Good party,� my Woman says to me.

�Yeah,� I reply, �Some people out there tonight actually know how to use their fucking heads.�

Today I feel like a bag of bruised nipples and I'm gonna murder the little fucker who shat in my mouth, but it's cool. Got me some VIP sneak preview passes from WB. Spoils for being a crafty corporate whore.

0 of you fuckers have been accounted for.

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