My Blog

I think my Chinese baby had a party

This is Part 4 of an ongoing saga. Please refer to the earlier entries on my
acquisition of a Chinese baby or none of this will seem plausible.

I went away for a few days. The Big Apple. When I returned and drove my car up to my building, I could hear Motorhead's "Ace of Spades" (an excellent song and album incidentally) from half a block away. I had no idea it was being cranked through the thoroughly trashed remains of my speakers. As I got closer to my apartment, I could see black smoke pouring from underneath my door.

Hieronymous Bosch would have shit sparkly egg noodles. Leon, my hardworking Chinese she-baby, being tea-bagged by Leonard Nimoy (uncircumcised) as he mounted a wheel of cheddar cheese. Nimoy was wearing sheer burgundy nylons and a bowler hat while inserting his Spock cock in a rut-hole he had hollowed out with an acetylene torch and lubricated with honey. He flashed me the "Live Long and Prosper" hand sign without breaking rhythm. His eyes, the red slits of the damned.

20 assorted lingerie clad hippie chicks, bikers, and a tall black lady in a Darth Vader helmet with a shotgun were screaming, hollering, and gambling on some aspect of the copulation. With the music, I couldn't understand anything.

The smoke was coming from a still smoldering furniture campfire set in the middle of my living room. Passed out next to it clutching a half-full bottle of mint Listerine/ Tequila and a bag of marshmallows was a nude monkey who had dried, buzzing-fly puke next to his mouth. There was corn in it which I wasn't aware monkeys ate.

There were 40-some holes punched/kicked/shot in each and every wall in my apartment. The holes each contained a carnal diorama of sorts: used condoms, semi-full bottles of liquor, a strap-on rubber cock with the tip bitten off, empty prescription bottles and baggies, a Pope hat, crack pipes, urine-stained crotchless XXXXXL panties (which I could only assume belonged to the dead fat clown nailed upside-down to the linoleum floor of the kitchen), a few D-Cell batteries, piles of melted candle wax, turds with Froot Loops stuck in to make surprised "oooooo" faces, and a couple of action figures from some aquatic Disney movie.

The 8 foot pentagram on my ceiling had been painted in blood (again, probably the dead fat clown's) and "Illegitimi non carborundum" scrawled in the middle with a Sharpie. Someone had built a bong out of a mannequin leg, broken it, and attempted to fix it with drywall joint compound. There was a brand new drumset in the corner.
The acoustic guitar next to it was filled with hamsters glued to popsicle stick crosses.

There was a half-barrell grill and 4 empty kegs in my kitchen. Meat rotting on the counters and about 5 inches of standing water/fluid with an oily black slick and a Chutes and Ladders gameboard floating on top surrounding the island of dead fat clown.

One side of the bathtub had been extended into a quarter pipe and Dallas Raines, the weatherman from FOX 11 here in LA, was doing roller skating tricks for two men in sombreros one carrying a briefcase, the other a bag of golfclubs. They looked important. Dallas' pupils were the size of pie plates and he was clearly on the LSD. His body was covered in Magic Marker penises and offensive slogans probably from being passed out around mischevious people. And my sink was on fire.

I tried to maintain my cool. "Leon, did you have a party while daddy was gone?"

"MMmmffphh..." Leon tried to answer with a mouthful of the hairiest, most logical balls I've ever seen.

"LEON...DID you have a party while daddy was gone?!"

Everyone got quiet and someone turned down the stereo.

"No, daddy."

"Well, I think you're lying young lady." It's important to call kids on their bullshit.
I read it in a book on parenting on the flight.

"I didn't."

"Where are the sneakers you were supposed to make?"

"I forgot."

"You forgot or you were too busy having a party with your friends to make sneakers?"

"I forgot!"

After reading his chest, I asked a shirtless, tattooed biker next to me, "Lightning Gary, was there a party here?"

"No, Mr. K. We were just studying."

Everyone started chiming in. "Yeah, studying." "Books." "Homework." "Learning."

I tried to be stern, "O.K., but everyone needs to go home. Your parents are probably worried sick."

"Aaawwww....Mr. K........"

"No, no, go on. You can go study at the library. Leon will be by later after she's had a bath."

"Bye, Leon." "See ya, Leon." Everyone filed out except for Spock who wasn't quite done yet.

After he wiped his seed on my curtains and left, I gave Leon the miniature Empire state building paperweight I had gotten for her and I think she liked it. We're bonding.

My Chinese Baby is the BOMB! (Part C)

(Like all serial narratives, this will make more sense if you read the prior installments)

I awoke this morning to breakfast in bed courtesy of Leon, my Chinese she-baby. Pancakes, Belgian waffles, bacon (rare, like I like it), sausage, eggs over-hard, hash browns, biscuits-n-gravy, cantaloupe cut in the shape of stars, blintzes, steak, raspberry danishes, bagels, ham, toast-n-jelly, cereal, a dozen home-made donuts, breakfast burrito, large juice and an orchid in a skull-shaped vase. Ordinarily, I'm a raging asshole if I'm woken up in the morning, but I couldn't help, but be moved by the efforts.

Also, the apartment was immaculate. Leon cleans like the wind. i was flaggergasted. I heard some rustling during the night, but figured it was the cat. Nope. The kitchen's so sterile, you could assemble semi-conductors. (Actually, that might make a good "Leon project"...) I needed to take a piss, but I held it out of respect for the cleanliness of my bathroom which she also re-tiled and repainted. My work clothes were freshly laundered and there was a brown bag lunch packed and ready to go in the fridge.

Stunning. It's like moral of that Aesop fable about the 4 dwarves and the magic cow, "You think you got a Chinese baby all figgered out and then they surprise the shit out of you."

My Chinese Baby is lazy as hell (Pt. 2)

I got Leon today (see earlier blog entry re: Chinese baby) via UPS and man, is this baby a slacker. I set out the vacuum cleaner, pointed out the Windex and left a detailed "to-do" list and she hasn't even gotten out of the shipping box yet and it's quarter to six! How did these people ever build a TransContinental Railroad?! Must've been at night. All I know is if this place isn't spotless by tomorrow morning, she's going right back to the baby store. Anticipate delays with your sneaker orders.

Good times with Jesus

Most people don't know Jesus is back on earth. Primarily because he works in a video store on Rampart and he shaved his beard. (I think he's laying low cause he got his ass beat down pretty bad last time he was here. See: "Passion of the Christ") Also, he usually wears black jeans and concert Ts instead of the robe thing.
Anyway, last night Jesus and I drove his van out to where the 5 meets the 605 to hang out. I have this 3-man slingshot made out of surgical tubing and Jesus' buddy, Francisco had a bunch of baked potatoes from the Sizzler where he buses tables. So, we're hanging out on the southbound overpass shootin' taters at the passing cars with not a lot of success. (I wish the CHP enforced speeding a little more in that area because it's extremely frustrating having all those near misses because people are driving too fast.) Francisco's pissed off because we're down to the last 3 potatoes and we haven't hit one yet. Luckily, Jesus remembered that he was the Son of God and could do miracles and shit, so the next one burst into flame once it was airborne and lodged in the passenger side headrest of some ladies' Camry. Now, the three of us are laughing and backslapping.
We shoot the next potato and it turns into a 600 lb. sparkly unicorn and crashes through the windshield of an 18 wheeler which slams into an embankment causing a 15 car pile up. The unicorn walked away unharmed. Hilarious.
We had to move to the northbound side since traffic had stopped and there were no more targets. Jesus is eyeing the last potato and he's got a little grin on his face (which I can see clearly because, again, he doesn't have the beard anymore). We pull back to shoot it and it launches and bursts into a million little fragments of very potent existential angst which hit every car passing through for the next hour or so. Drivers began to speak with horrible French accents, smoke cigarettes and wonder what it's all about and why bother.
Baked potato supply exhausted, we went back to the video store, drank orange juice, and watched "Deer Hunter".

I just won a Chinese baby...

and I can't wait until it gets here. (Ebay has made the whole adoption process MUCH
easier than it used to be. You just need a credit card and a few good testimonials on myspace.) I don't know if it's going to be a boy or a girl cause I just ordered one of whatever they had left in the Baby Grab Bag. If it's a boy, I'm going to name him Leon and if it's a girl, I'm going to call her Leon. I just hope it gets here soon because my place is a mess and I'm starving.

Just kidding of course. I'll give Leon a day to settle in before assigning chores. There's a lot of misinformation on the world-wide intercomputer about raising kids and fortunately for me, I know that nature takes care of a lot of it. I mean how would these Chinese babies survive in the wild? By pluck and good old gumption that's how.
Well, that's how shit's gonna run in our house. I'm not spending money on diapers, figure out the toilet or clean up as you go. If anyone's getting diapers around here it's me. I don't like having to pause a movie to go take a leak and I work for a living.

Also, none of that special lazy baby food. There's the cereal, soy milk's in the fridge and after you wash the dishes, you can use the bowl. The faster you figure out chewing and how to forage the better your chances of surviving.

If anyone is interested in a pair of well-made sneakers in the next few months, please send me your shoe size and color preferences and I'll get Leon working on it.