Deep Clean With The Doctor

Home Articles & Rants Deep Clean With The Doctor
This Article Is Brought To You By : Black Matter Mastering
Written By: Attucks
Dec 01 2011

Doctor Bronner's Soap, I love the shit. My old man turned me on to it when I was a kid. Told me it can clean anything from your dishes, to your ass, to your teeth and clothes. It really tingles too. I rarely have enough money to buy my own but I love to use whenever I can. I recently watched a documentary on the old Doctor and it was wild. The good Doctor's soap has saved my life, kind of. Well it felt like it, that's for sure.

It was after Halloween last year and last year's Halloween was nuts. Rectum, it damn near killed me! The most important part of this is the fact that we didn't have any hot water at our warehouse from April until November last year because we didn't pay the bills. Got to pay those bills, bud! We owed over 300 hundred bucks and we couldn't afford to pay all the old bullshit off to get our gas turned back on. Fuck, I remember I was going to Chicago to play the Apocalyptic Crust Fest and I was more excited to take a hot shower at the hotel room then to play the show! Plus I'm a cook for a living so I am perpetually sheathed in a semi-permanent layer of filth and grease. Showers are crucial. At least 2 a week or you start smelling like your work shoes and that's no good. I was dating a hipster gal at the time and would try to shower at her place once every week or two but that was a pretty limited opportunity for achieving the state of clean that I desired. I did take my first hot shower in 6 months there though. My skin went bonkers. It was almost painful and euphoric at the same time. Showers became a quest. Last year's Halloween weekend brought the lack of bathing to the forefront for me.

Friday night of the weekend started great. Dripfed had a show at the Blast-o-mat in which everybody in the band dressed up. I was a chubby barbarian complete with loincloth, fur boots, horned helmet and a real two handed scimitar. The show was a blast but as we pulled back up to my warehouse after the gig to unload I noticed someone trying to get into my roommate's car while she was in it so I jumped out of the van dressed in barbarian regalia and yelled " get the fuck away from her car." The young gang banger looked up at me with his bottle of Courvoisier in hand and uttered "what mother fucker." Then I noticed someone coming at me from my right. Since I got the attention of the guy who was trying to carjack my roommate that gave her a chance to take off and she did leaving me with pissed gangbangers. These particular gangbangers are known as the Rolling 88 Crips if I remember right. They are the ones who beat the Mexican gang off my block and took over crack selling there. Well luckily I play in a band with a bunch of other fellows who decided to jump out of the van right when my roomie pulled away and the guy to my right was coming at me. The bangers quickly saw how outnumbered they were so they backed off with a bunch of cussing and one of them uttering about "where's my gat." They didn't have a gun of course, because if you are stupid enough to sit there and say "let me get my gat "Then you are obviously full of shit. People with guns usually shoot at you, instead of saying where's my gat, over and over. I laugh at that because I wonder what they were thinking. Imagine trying to car jack someone then having a six foot two, two hundred and fifty pound almost naked man in a loin cloth come after you. Well after that I went to the bar and finished my Friday night lit to the world.

Saturday came and I was kind of bummed. There was a show in my warehouse that night but I had to work. My roommate who almost got jacked the night before was putting the show on and asked if I would sing Monster Mash for her garage rock band the Manxx when I got home from work. As I cooked all night I would constantly go over all the lyrics in my head then I started singing them out loud as a fried potatoes and flipped burgers. I was listening to a local radio station that played Monster Mash 3 times that night! By the last time they played it I could sing it perfect. When I got off work I raced down to the warehouse, got changed into my barbarian costume right as they were about to jam the song and came out of my room just in time to sing it and I nailed that fucker. It was a ton of fun.

After that I went and got changed to go to work at a speakeasy I used to bartend at. We were open from 2 a.m. till about 6 a.m. I walked the two night chilled blocks over to the speakeasy. I knocked on the answer. Knocked again, nothing. "Fuck it!" I thought, "I will just go home and rage at the giant party at my house." Right then in the street in front of me a local old school shredder named Wells flips over the handlebars of his fixed gear bike in the middle of 21st. He pops up visibly shaken. Looks at me and proceeds to iterate to me that his shoulder is popped out of socket and asks if I can help. What!?! Help what? Help not laugh at your crippled ass? No, he wants me to pull on his arm while he pulls his body away from me so his dislocated shoulder can pop back into place. Three disgusting and quite brutal tugs later I sent him on his way cured of his malady. That was a first for me. Actually that weekend had a lot of firsts for me. After yanking on Wells for a while I decided to go home and enjoy the big party at my warehouse. I got home and changed back into my costume and thrashed till about 6 in the morning. I believe I was drunk enough to start exposing my genitals, so you know it was time for bed.

The next day was officially Halloween! Stoked! Party bus and no work for me tonight. Two of my friends have birthdays together on Halloween, so every year they party it out together and this year was no different. A party bus is a public transportation bus that has been transformed with tinted windows into a party bus. The private owner rents it out and drives you all over town. He takes you to whatever bar you want to go to while you drink and do as much and as many drugs as you want on the bus on the way. Yea, it gets fucking nuts. I went on one party bus were we drove around to karaoke bars so two of my friends could sing the song, Island's in the Stream, a duet by Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers. That was some of the most fun I've ever had! So I was pumped for this night's adventures. The party bus was picking up at a bar called Old Curtis St. Our first stop was a block away at the Bar Bar. Then we made our way to some crappy yuppie bar. That's where I took some mushrooms. I had taken some earlier that year after I married some friends of mine and had a good time so I figured what the hell.

We were leaving that bar and finally heading down town. Somewhere in here is where I blacked out. Now earlier in the night we had to pick partners to be in charge of, the buddy system if you will. Mine was a friend named Meh, lead singer to local Denver punk band Doersovit. Later I found out that we went into a bar so she could use the bathroom and I wondered off. I barely remember that. I came to my senses standing in the middle of Broadway looking like Conan the Deer Caught in Head Lights. Broadway is a 5 lane major throughway that runs South through Denver. I ran to one side of the street and entered the first bar I saw. Bad idea. The record scratched. All these old men shifted their droopy eyes away from their sad sorry ass drinks to focus on the psycadelic barbarian at the gate before them. It was bad. I turned straight around and walked out. I could barely make out the party bus across the street but knew that was my best bet. I checked for car lights and ran for it. I got over to the party bus and realized I had no wallet and I had to piss. Not bad but I knew I would have to go soon. Since I've had back surgery, I don't get as much warning about these kinds of things as I use to. I boarded the bus and hastily searched through my shit for my wallet to no avail. Panic mode set in now and I really needed to take a leak. I brought my coveralls just in case something happened and I had to not look like a drunken chunky barbarian. I got those on and split. I realized that if I didn't have my wallet the party bus activities are over for me for the rest of the night. At least that is what my super wasted on booze and drugs mind deduced from the situation. Wait, I can use my cell phone to call someone and tell them I wasted. No chance, bud, batteries are fucking dead! Ultra panic mode sets in...oh fuck, I got to piss right now or I'm done. I departed the bus and ran up the street to piss.

I had to get through the fly in my coveralls then move the loincloth over and undo the fly that I had strategically placed in the cloth cog piece underneath for an occasion just as this. The problem was I hadn't figured on the extra burden of thermal coveralls restriction of the crotch area. So yes, I pissed myself walking down the sidewalk crying. I couldn't go back to the party bus now. I was a blithering idiot at that point. I walked the mile or so back to my house. Wasted falling over the entire way but luckily for me, I pissed myself again on the way. I didn't even stop walking this time. I didn't even try to get my dick out at all. Just stumbling along, leaving a snail trail of piss behind me. Of course I didn't have hot water so I couldn't wash the piss off me when I got home. I did plug in my phone though and there were a million messages. People freaking out, wondering where the fuck I went. So I called and told them I lost my wallet and came home. Turns out when I ate the mushrooms I knew I was getting out of control so I gave my wallet to my buddy to hold on to so I wouldn't lose it. I was too wasted to remember that important detail. Geesh, I went back up to the Bar Bar and went and checked out some show and I guess I was a mess all night barely able to talk. I have a brief memory at the very end of the night of me throwing glasses at my coffee table that was filled with other glasses and celebrating the loud shattering concussion that followed.

I woke up Monday bummed out. Felt like a Grade A moron but in a giggly way. I had to work that night. We were slow, no college hipster kids felt like partying at my work so I got off early that night, about 12:30 A.M. I haggard my way home to find my roomie, the one who almost got car jacked, twiddling her thumbs. I felt disgusting and the only cure for that was more booze. We agreed that we both needed a drink so back to Bar Bar. Yes! Luckily we weren't the only losers who still needed to party the day after, after, after. Well as we are sitting in the pool room at the bar a friendly face appears and asks if we want to eat mushrooms. Me and my roommate looked at each other and smiled out our agreeing nods. I don't know what the hell I was thinking at the time but it ended up being a lot more fun than the night before. So needless to say I was up till 6 a.m. again. I awoke in the middle of my sleep to my body was freaking out. I was very dizzy and felt like I had to puke mixed with a serious panic attack. I crawled out of bed, across the floor to my sink so I could splash cold water on my face. I lay on my floor for a second. All of the sudden I felt like I had to take a huge shit. I got myself into the bathroom and released a 7 inch on colored vinyl big time. Wow, I felt great after that, time to go back to bed instead of dying on the floor.

Earlier, before I passed out, I remember telling all the other tripping people at my house that I had been partying like G.G. Allen. I had gotten laid earlier in the week so I had fuck on me; I pissed myself twice, played a show, puked multiple times, had beer and other liquor poured over me, worked in a kitchen for a week or so and I just straight stank. I begged anybody at the party to please let me take a shower at their house the next day. Thankfully a good friend stepped in and let me clean myself in her nice big shower with Dr. Bronners soap. Fucking lifesaving!!! I smiled and embraced the tingle as the good Doctor washed the evil off me. I watched the maelstrom of filth swirl its way down the drain and realized I got to get that gas turned on at my house a.s.a.p.


Record label from Oakland, CA. Home of CANNABIS CORPSE, GHOUL, DIRECT CONTROL, KICKING SPIT, and many more.
blog comments powered by Disqus
We Support:
Git Yerself Some Free Tunes!
Latest Squakings!