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Badass Film Tour 2 – Day 8: Augusta Snow

November 17, 2010

Drive to Augusta, GA

2:27 PM – CHAD
We drove from Gainesville to Augusta today, apparently.  Seems like something I would have remembered, but what am I, a fucking almanac?

Pig – Oink

Chad Intro

Bob in Augusta

10:21PM – CHAD
We got into Augusta, Georgia and screened at The Sky Lounge. It was a pretty cool bar, and they have started showing some films in the back so they had a screen set up and everything. We met some cool people there, Coco Rubio, Alamo, Jordan… the whole thing was really made possible by my good friend Nick Snow from Brazoswood High School, who moved out to…. What’s that? You can’t hear me? Oh, that’s because Nick won’t shut the fuck up, he’s been talking for twenty-five years straight. No, but seriously, I remember when Nick moved out to Austin for a while back in the 90’s and as soon as he got to town, he rode down to Mexico with me on a pill run. Everybody on that trip remembers Nick because he got in the car, started talking, and never stopped, even after he’d lost his voice. He literally completely lost his voice and would still keep talking to you for hours, with no sound coming out. While the movie was playing tonight, I remember looking up in the front row and seeing Nick sitting there with like, five or six friends that he’d gotten to come out and I remember thinking it was cool that he had brought a crowd and shit, but I felt bad for them because I knew they couldn’t hear a goddamn thing, except Nick talking. For real though, Nick great to see you again. Hope we hook up with you on the way back south, as planned. I’ve included two videos of Nick here, for those of you back in Texas. It’s vintage Nick Snow material, trust me…

Nicks No

Nicks no Talk Black

5:14 AM – BOB:
The details are fuzzy. In reality, I’m at the Whole Foods in NYC (the library closed). I’m just acting like it’s Day 8 and I’m still awake in Augusta, hunting and pecking away at this tour journal. The truth is, the details are fuzzy. According to Google Maps, we probably drove for about five and three quarter hours today… unless we got lost.
I remember that Augusta was cool and that we hung out with the dude who used to drum for the Riverboat Gamblers. At some point there was either a swap or a mutual giving of goods to one another. Either way, we left with some kind bud and either parted ways with a DVD or some pills in the process. And the Soul City Sirens derby gals here were cool too. We had us a fun as fuck time. Chad’s pal Nick, who seems like a nice motherufkcer and might be crazy, likes to talk.  It doesn’t matter if you are watching a movie or taking a dump in the stall next to him, Nick will chat you up good.

Film Tour Page:

Badass Film Tour 2 – Day 7: Gainesville

November 16, 2010

11:34 AM – CHAD:
I’m over at Anita HardOne’s (Jacksonville Rollergirls)  place where we spent the night last night and Married to Rock is playing on television while I’m catching up on writing and she’s paying her bills and I just wanted to say something real quick to Perry Ferrell: “I always knew you were full of shit. You didn’t have me fooled for a fucking second and I knew you’d end up involved in something like this before it was all said and done.”

Now that we have that little bit of unpleasantness behind us, I have come to a realization. Over the course of this east coast film journal, I’ve mentioned Chef Boyardee Raviolis (Hop Sing in New Orleans) high school reunions (Woody Woodard in Panama City Beach Florida) and Darrell Maudlin (Santana Moss’ shade-tree tactics in Jacksonville). This is all shaping up just like an article I wrote for Rank and Revue way back in… 2004 or 2005. You can use the context clues in the outdated sports updates to figure the date exactly, but I’ve got pills to do and people to screw:

The Couch Trip
Have you ever come across a clitoris so big; you thought it was a dick? How did this make you feel? Were you scared, or did you like it? I am reminded of what has to be one of the tackiest, most tasteless nights of my life. Ah, who am I kidding? It was just another night out.  Actually, it wasn’t just another night out; this was the night of my high school reunion, bringing Brazoswood High School’s Class of 1991 together to wallow in the mire once again. There were a shitload of us partying Brazoria County style at a river house just outside of Richwood, Texas. The house belonged to Darrell Evans, who is father to Will, of Affordable Sound fame. When I first moved up here to Austin from the coast to go to college, the last thing Mr. Evans told me was to have fun, but to call him if I ever got arrested. Since then, I’ve been arrested over a dozen times, and haven’t called him once.
Anyway, I was absolutely starving, hanging out in the kitchen with Will while he made me a huge pot of Chef Boyardee Ravioli. Over in the living room, the call was sounded. One of Brazoria County’s most beautiful and notorious women had finally had enough, screaming, “Fuck you, you motherfuckers, fuck me!” as she tore off her shirt, threw it across the room, and fell onto the couch in a passed out heap. What followed would have best been viewed in slow motion. Myself, in the kitchen, and Darrell Maudlin, out on the patio, both immediately sprung into action. As the shirt still hung in the air, we were both in a full sprint, me rounding the kitchen counter and Darrell barging in through the sliding glass door. We were on opposite sides of the house, heading to an equidistant point in the middle. As the shirt landed, I hurdled the coffee table and laid out in a swan dive for the spot on the couch next to our fallen angel. I could feel Darrell in the air, sailing towards me. We both crashed onto the same spot on the sofa like two linemen pouncing on a fumble, jockeying for position. I somehow outmaneuvered him and snuggled up next to my date, laughing hysterically in victory. She had passed out in a half laying, half sitting position at the end of the couch. As it was, she was way too drunk to be coaxed into lying out lengthwise, allowing me to lay beside her and thus filling the couch to capacity. “No, no you fucker, I’m not going anywhere.” Darrell announced, spooning up behind me. The siege had begun.
As the rest of our high school friends partied on into one of the best night of their lives, Darrell and I remained on the couch, opting for a high stakes battle of wills. We both knew that sooner or later, in the wee hours of the morning, the house would lay silent, allowing the victor of our deadly game at least a half hour’s pleasure with our quarry, who would be just waking from her stupor by then. To the loser… Nothing. Nothing but the lifelong knowledge of having blown off your high school reunion in some fucked up “One in the hand is better than two in the bush.” type of scenario. Neither of us realized how bad it would get.
Darrel struck the first blow. Having finished slaving over a huge pot of raviolis, Will came into the living room and made a disturbing announcement. Will was in love, you see. He and his fiancé were living together in sin up in Austin, and much of the furniture at the river house had been bequeathed to them, including the couch, which the missus had taken a particular liking to. She didn’t want anyone eating on the couch and Will, in a sickening display of weakness, was upholding the decree. In order to eat my raviolis, I was going to have to get up, relinquishing the upper hand to my opponent. Darrell, on the contrary, was free to come and go as he pleased, so long as I didn’t have enough time to lay out prostrate with my sweetheart. He got up, sat across the coffee table from me, and ate the whole pot right in my face. He kept saying shit like “Mmmm, these are the best fucking raviolis I’ve ever had in my life!” as he licked the sauce off the spoon. Upon finishing, Darrell snuggled back up behind me. Three dominoes, lying toppled over on each other, we looked like a love triangle gone bad. The party raged on around us.
Eventually, Darrell and I fell asleep. As the party dwindled, at about 4 A.M., we both awoke to find that our hostess had pissed her pants. Through the process of osmosis, everything was completely soaked in piss: her clothes, my clothes, Darrell’s clothes and, most importantly, the precious sofa. Shedding layers of clothing and flipping over couch cushions, Darrell and I tried to make ourselves as comfortable as possible. Even our little princess had begun to stir a little, stripping down to her g-string and smiling at us briefly. “Hey baby.” she cooed, right before falling back asleep. She probably thought she was seeing double. I don’t blame her for pissing herself; it had been a long night with lots of drinking. I myself had to piss so severely that I grabbed a Big Gulp cup within arm’s reach on the coffee table and filled it to capacity. There was no way I could surrender now… too much had been sacrificed. Too much had been lost.
About an hour later, violent pounding on the front door awakened all three of us. It was the type of knocking reserved only for police officers and maniacs, neither of whom you want to talk to at five in the morning. Everyone else in the house had finally passed out and the three of us, closest to the door, were default favorites to answer it. Lying on top of me, Darrell knew I wouldn’t be able to get up unless he got up anyway. Victory was mine.
Apparently, a drunken neighbor had shown up at the door, threatening to kick everyone’s asses. My lover and I giggled to one another; stretching out comfortably on the couch while listening to the slurry brow beating Darrell was taking out on the porch. “You sons-a-bishes, making goddamn racket all night, drinking and driving shit all around the goddamn shtreet….” It was a classic case of adding insult to injury. The two of us fell into a deep embrace.
Ok, before I continue, I must address the fact that I’ve taken quite a brow beating over the years for eating homegirl out after she pissed her pants. I have no regrets about this whatsoever, and feel like there is plenty to support my case. First of all, she had already pissed all over me anyway. Secondly, people seem to have the false impression that just because a girl gets up, goes to the restroom, takes off her pants and pisses in a commode, all of a sudden her pussy is as clean enough to eat off of, no pun intended. Most importantly, this girl is fine as all hell… always has been, always will be. She could have SHIT in her fucking pants, and I still would have gone down on her. In the end, we fucked and sweated and came all over the piss-stained couch that Will had tried so hard to protect while Darrell lay helplessly uninvolved on the living room floor. Revenge, indeed, was a dish best served cold.
Looking back on the article to this point, there’s one thing I would like to clear up. Because I opted not to use the lady-in-question’s name, I feel there is an overall tone of objectification taking place when I talk about her. The fact that she was passed out most of the night might also lead one to think she was taken advantage of. It’s important to me to point out that she is a very good friend of mine, one of my favorite women of all time in fact, and we’ve been close for about fifteen years. She was even married to one of my best friends at one point. I didn’t use her name because I never mention women’s names under these situations, not wanting to kiss and tell. Anything that came off as chauvinistic or rude towards women in general or towards this girl specifically was completely unintentional.
Thing is, she has this huge fucking clit. I mean the thing was gigantic… like three or four inches long. I was able to wrap my hand around it and suck it like a fag. When it swole up, I wanted to sit up on it and ride it. It was fucking great. After I got up, she used her clit like a mussel’s foot to dig her way down into the couch cushions.
Now that that little bit of unpleasantness is behind us, I’d like to take a look at the recent developments in the world of football, both high school and college. For starters, the High School Playoffs have begun, ushering in one of my favorite times of the year. Do I like the High School Playoffs? Well, instead of going to Slayer on Friday, I drove down to San Marcos by myself to see the San Marcos Rattlers play the Schertz Clemens Buffaloes in opening round action. On the heels of several red-zone turnovers, San Marcos suffered a disappointing loss in front of the home crowd, bringing an end to a season that had seen them go 9-1 up to that point. Far and away, the highpoint of the game was the Rattler band playing Breadfan. Can you believe it? BREADFAN!! Numerous perennial powerhouses, including Texas City, Denison, Duncanville, Euless Trinity, Grapevine and Sealy saw early exits from the playoffs this weekend. With The Longhorns being off next weekend, I expect to take in two, if not three second round games.
Speaking of The Longhorns, my Uncle Ronnie came up for the Texas Tech game this weekend. Couple of things here. First of all, Texas’ defense looked absolutely shitty against Tech. I don’t give a fuck about the “high powered” offence they’re running in Lubbock these days. Several teams, including Colorado, have managed to keep Tech in check this year and to let the Red Raiders come into Austin and go apeshit like that is truly despicable. Secondly, Mack Brown’s call to bench Vince Young for Chance Mock on the last drive of the game makes him one of three things; a genius, an idiot, or a maniac. Having never heard him called a coaching genius, and seeing him do too much for the program over the years to call him an idiot, I have to assume we have a maniac on our hands. As we speak, Mack Brown has gone completely fucking insane. Oh sure, his call won the game, but what does it say about the way he has handled the quarterback situation all season up until this point? I have no idea. Insane, I tell you! – Chad Holt

1:49 PM – CHAD:
We’re leaving Jacksonville for Gainesville today, but we’re going to stop along the way at St. Augustine Beach and check out the Atlantic Ocean.

2:22 PM – CHAD:
Someone left a butthole on the beach. I don’t think I can take it, because it took so long to bake it. I’ll never have that recipe again…. No, but seriously, I found a butthole on the beach. It was like Macarthur Park, Florida style. Someone must have left it there the night before, and it was reacting to stimuli. Go ahead and watch the clip if you don’t believe me. I also filmed a dead horseshoe crab.

9:00 PM – CHAD:
Gainesville’s shows were fucking awesome. A shitload of Gainesville Roller Rebels were out for Hell on Wheels and the better part of eighty people (mind you that could be anywhere from 41 and above) showed up for Total Badass. Easily one of the best back-to-back audiences we’ve had on either coast. Now granted, most of the people at Total Badass were students of Roger Beebe who teaches film out there at The University of Florida, but we’ll take them.

Chad’s Intro

Q&A for Total Badass

2:17 AM – CHAD:
We ended up crashing at Adrienne Filardo’s house, and I made some great friends over there. I’d like you to meet them:

2:18 AM* – BOB:
*[really, it’s day 18 and I’m at the NYC library again… but if you’ve been reading these blogs with any bit of loyalty and pride, you already know this.]
Yes, what Chad says sounds true.  I’m gonna go with that.  Hanging with Gainesville Roller Rebels’ Stocky and Ragedrienne was fun.  And thanks, Roger Bebee for forcing your students to watch our flick and giving us a nice li’l crowd.  Oh yeah, I just remembered:  I did two different interviews for journalism students.  Weird, but true.  I guess it’s slim pickings, story-wise in G’ville.