Headin' Up North: Part 1

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I ended up getting fired on Friday and I couldn't be happier about it. In no way

shape or form is my termination a "good thing". I had benefits and a contract

and all that jazz but nothing that has ever happened to me that ended working

out just fine could be classified as a "good thing" by any rational mind. I'm not

exactly rational all the time but I'm certainly not crazy. The job and television

for that matter is not a good fit for me. So I'm hitting the open road. My natural

reaction to rejection isn't to run away but to go find something better. That is

precisely what I'm doing as soon as I finish writing this in fact.

I didn't think I was going to have to use my nuclear melt down plan this early into

my foray into Hollywood but this is an emergency. While I was working in Canada the

secretary for my supervisor grew up in Vancouver, BC. She was a very sweet girl that

was sincere with her every word. She told great stories about growing up in Vancouver.

I had it in my mind then that if things were to ever get out of control or meltdown I would

head north. Stopping in San Francisco for a few days, followed by camping several

nights in Redwoods National Park and finally making a flat out sprint all the way north

right out of this God forsaken country.

I had always thought I would have to make the run for the northern border under

duress. This is not the situation. I am not bitter about getting fired. There's no reason

to even attempt to explain as to why I was fired because the circumstances are

pointless when compared with the big picture. Also, I would prefer to make up

ridiculous stories as to why I got fired as opposed to trying to explain the truth.

This will be without a doubt an adventure. That is precisely what I need. I am not

the 9-5 type and don't believe I ever will be. I feel like a wolf in sheep's clothing

when I'm wearing a collared shirt and khaki's. I'm more suited with a back pack and

a book under my arm. This feels right to me at the moment. I'm excited to see what

I might discover. I leave so that I can absorb what has taken place. When I arrive I will

process what I have gathered then when I come back I will create with that I now know.

It's a standard process. It's just another day at the office.

Love & Respect,

Mike James

I Lost My Mind at La Brea and Pico

If it's easy, it's honestly just not that much fun. I have always stayed absolutely dedicated to this mentality. If you are constantly trying to accomplish impossible tasks then you end up succeeding at so much that you never set out to succeed at in the first place.

Granted, this does place the burden of constantly battling the impending failure but this is merely a side effect. My Grandpa would say often "If ya never got out of been in the mornin' then hell you'd never fail at anything!" This is a very wise statement and one that I keep in mind as I write this.

Los Angeles is one cold hard bitch. A rock solid jab to the testicles or vagina region await around every corner. It's unforgiving, unapologetic and unjust. A lot like the world that we live in. As ugly as it can be there is something beautiful in this hobo ridden, smog laden, cess pool of floozies and fly boys.

Tonight I lost my mind at La Brea and Pico. It all built up and I went completely flat...literally.

It starts with this job. I'm on a great show with great people. I however have never done anything close to what I am asked to do for my job. I have never kept track of the amount of stuff I've had to keep track of. I've never had to talk to the amount of people that I have had to talk to. I've never had to juggle as many thing at one time as I've been asked to juggle now. Figuritively juggle of course, asking me to actually juggle would be absurd.

It's gone well or so I thought up until last week. I will just say that I have been giving all that Mike James has to offer (which is quite a bit, I have this blog to prove it) and it's not quite enough. My time there is in question and also in question is my next move if it doesn't work out.

I am am someone who infamously always has a back up plan. Today as I was leaving work I had the feeling of a dead man driving. (thought I would update that cliche for a sec) I remembered that I walked out this morning after throwing up repeatedly over the stress of having my paycheck hanging in the balance over what was in my inbox when I got to work. I saw that I had an almost flat tire. There was nothing I could about it at the time because I couldn't be late. I had to drive on it all the way to Culver City. I felt the tire go flat. Completely flat. Somehow though I got to work.

It's been pretty stressful between constantly wondering if I'm going to get caned, getting my bike stolen this weekend by some soulless hood rat, my undefeated fantasy football record, some blonde that doesn't even deserve the right of me caring that she fucked with my head (but she did anyway) and the fact we are in the greatest economic crisis since the Great Depression (thus the worry about losing my job),

So needless to say, I forgot that I drove to work on a flat tire today. I wanted nothing more but to come home, open a beer and finish Monday Night Football. That wasn't going to happen.

I stop at a gas station traveling down Venice. No working air pump. The tire looks bad. Maybe I can just pump it up and it will work? Idiot.

I get as far as La Brea and Pico. The car is no longer drivable and the driver (me) has no business being behind the wheel. I pull up to the side of the gas station and proceed to lose my shit.

Now in print I am admitting that I, Mike James am not invinceable. Los Angeles beat the shit out of me and I had fell into a urine stained wall at a gas station at La Brea and Pico.

Of all the things that I have laughed in the face of that flat tire completely deflated every ounce of strength I had in my body. If this was the Thrilla in Manilla then I was rope-a-doped the fuck out.

I meant what I said about my bike being stolen this weekend. In the same way that I mean everything I say on here. This blog isn't my way of trying to gain attention to myself or win any acclaim for the idiocy I write about. It's an accurate track record of what it's been like. I'm a journalist and I must document my experiences and journeys in an objective, truthful manner.

I about threw the towel in on LA tonight. I didn't though. I rolled up my sleeves. I popped the trunk of my car. I threw all the pointless clutter that was in my car to the ground in a very angry manner and I got out the dough nut tire. I put the car up on the jackand I changed that flat tire.

Nice try LA. I respect your effort but it's going to take much, much more to bring me down. This is with out a doubt a speed bump I'm currently experiencing. I may not be employed a week from now and in that case you can guarantee I'll be rolling with it. I might also still be employed and collecting my weekly pay check. If this is the scenario then you can bet that's what I will be doing.

You see friends, I'm a Road Man. I'm a Road Man for The Lords of Karma. There's not many of us but there was never supposed to be. It's not a burden but it is a commitment. Los Angeles is only but one stop on the tour for me. I'll be needed elsewhere and when that time comes by you know I will be ready to roll. We should all be ready to roll. I'll go first though because it's just not that much fun if it isn't hard to do.

With Love and Respect,

Mike James

Unpublished Kush LA article: Reach Out & Smoke WIth Somebody

The Hollywood Holla is not associated with Kush LA Magazine.

Greetings! The Indianapolis Colts have pulled off another hard fought victory and Peyton Manning has proved once again that he is the most dominant quarterback in the world. After an exhausting weekend, work day and Monday Night Football game I'm forcing myself to muster out a few measly sentences on the bloggidy blog.

Last posting announced I was now writing for Kush LA Magazine. Well sometimes things don't always work out how we intend or imagine them to work out. I will not be writing for Kush LA Magazine and my first article with them will be my last. Apparently if the magazine was a Baskin Robbins my flavor of comedy would not be in their top thirty two. (I can go all day with weed/food references, they don't know what they're missing!)

The work schedule and the film has prevented me from sharing more of my tales of excessive awesomeness but I do have a little something for you. Below is the piece I wrote for them for this month's issue. Unfortunately it was not printed in the magazine but fortunately I run the perfect journalistic outlet for this type of article, this blog.

So I'm past weed writing for now. The marijuana-lit genre is still a wild frontier and I have a "been there, done that" outlook on it for now. Enjoy the piece below because if I can start getting paid for these silly words I might need to find a new subject.

Stay tuned for my weekly musical review.

Reach Out and Smoke With Somebody

By: Mike James

People these days are trying to connect in so many ways. Those unlucky in love go online and leave their hopes at finding that special someone to a website. Millions of people across the world are tweeting about their lunch, their sleeping habits and something about Michael Jackson with the hope someone will find them interesting.

The desire to connect with others is as natural an instinct as it is for dogs to scoot their bums across the carpet after they take a shit. The 21st century has us connecting in some pretty strange ways. Spend a little time online these days or just listen in on an office conversation about reality television and all of a sudden that dog scooting its hind parts across your carpet doesn’t seem so awkward, it now seems practical.

I have always had the belief that I have something to learn from everyone. I have had the privilege of knowing some ridiculously interesting and amazing people. The best part of these memorable connections is that it never would of happened if I didn’t smoke weed.

Marijuana is nature’s great equalizer and because of this it allows you to connect with people you may never connect with quite as easily.

The Passer-By

I find myself in conversation with random people all the time. One of my first visits to LA I was staying in the Santa Monica Days Inn across from the pier. I was girl watching on the pier and generally putting out the vibe when the opposite of what I was trying to do happened; some dude walked up and started talking to me. I’m polite, so I conversed until he asked if I smoked bud. I simply said, “what do you think?” and laughed.

He had a quad of some insane Purple God’s Gift OG. We smoked a couple blunts in my hotel room and laughed loudly about random things until there was an angry knocking at my door. I was staying in a non-smoking room so I had an inclination as to what the knocking was about. My new friend however panicked. I tried to calm him down, telling him I could handle this, it has happened to me many times before but he wouldn’t listen. He ran around the room looking for a place to hide but found none. I was beginning to open the door when I saw him dive under the bed. This room however had no under the bed. The bed sat on a solid oak frame. He knocked himself out cold on his dive attempt right as I opened the door and let a thick plum of smoke out roll into the face of the hotel manager.

He asked a lot of questions but I was way to slow to answer any of them until he saw my friend knocked out on the floor.

“He’s very sleepy” was all I was able to say.

“Get your shit and move to a new room in five minutes or I’m calling the cops” he said as some random, stoned dude with a possible head injury lay on my floor twitching. We’ve been great friends ever since.

The First Date

A legitimate, pre-planned and organized first date may be something others have no problem completing with ease but I am not one of those people. Meeting girls is not a difficult task but transferring over the charm and quick wit that set up the date in the first place over to the one-on-one evaluation is not always easy. There are so many rules, stipulations, guidelines and social mores that go with the “standard” first date that it can seem more like filing a tax return than trying to connect with somebody.

You talk about what you do for a living.

Yea that’s great let’s talk about work during the one point all week I’ve been looking forward to not thinking about work.

Then there’s talk about family.

I’m glad you were raised right but I don’t really care.

Or it’s…

Ok your family is messed up like everyone else and now I’m just depressed.

If you’re like me, you just try not to sound like an idiot.

I’m going to just keep eating dinner rolls and laughing because that seems to be working better than talking about my hatred for U2.

My best and most successful first dates have not included dinner, no movies, no “just hang with me and the girls” none of that. The best first dates have always been when we just got super high and talked about aliens.

Granted, this isn't the easiest maneuver to pull and does require some finesse but it is a practical way to determine if she's a keeper or not.

I believe marijuana is the ultimate aphrodisiac because it gives one the ability to transform a night with a girl where she would normally consider you a cheapskate into an artist. Think about that.

The Foreigner

This goes for either someone from another country in America (but is not needed like the latter) or an American in another country. I wouldn’t say that all Americans fit the stereotype that those abroad believe of us but for the most part we are all Jason Biggs’ character in American Pie to them.

That is until you reach out and break that stereotype.

I studied art for a semester in Italy and it opened my eyes to these types of realizations like never before. Take all the time I spent in museums, old churches and art galleries while I was in Italy and it doesn’t even come close to adding up to what I learned in one night smoking a spliff with our hotel’s night desk manager in front of the Trevi Fountain.

Old People

Never ever turn down the opportunity to smoke with an old person. I’m talking 70+ here, the ones who have honestly seen it all.

I met possibly the most epic man ever to walk the face of the earth up in Canada when I was working there on Parliament Hill a few years ago. He was an aged Nova Scotian and he didn’t even know how old he was. I’m guessing between 72-76 years old but he could of been 53, who knows?

A colleague of mine was living next door to him and one night when we were drinking beer and playing guitar on his porch I saw a shirtless old man, wearing a captain’s cap, dancing in the next yard over to Polka music with a bottle of whisky in one hand and tossing peanuts to a swarm of squirrels around him.

My mind was blown instantly. I put the guitar down and got up to investigate when I was stopped.

“I’ve got to tell ya, that’s The Skipper. You might never be the same after hearin’ what he’s got ta say you know” my friend said hiding a smirk.

I’m often warned and rarely slowed, so I walked over, pulled a joint out of my fro and said “you smoke?” to the crazy old man.

The Skipper jumped a few feet in the air and had me follow him back to his make shift fort in his back yard complete with transistor radio, scavenged VCR that played The Beatles’ movies on repeat and an eclectic selection of dried meats for snacking purposes.

The Skipper told stories of being a street performer in Halifax for years. He sang songs of getting in bar fights in far away places, wild women and of course smoking weed.

I returned to talk and smoke with the Skipper often while I was in Canada because even though he didn’t have a single useful lesson to teach me I learned so much from him.

Next time you are trying to come up with some cheesy pick up line, don't. There's no reason to feel uncomfortable around a bunch of people that are different than you. Why don’t you just smoke a doob, pass it to somebody and save everyone a whole bunch of trouble?

Love & Respect,

Mike James

Tales of Great Success

One day I'll be a success like this guy. One day I'll own Park Place AND Boardwalk!

My correspondence has lacked in the last few weeks because I have been experiencing a glorious streak of success. I invite you all to bask in my glory as I proceed to tell you how awesome I am.

I'm just kidding there's no way I'm that far up my own ass. I am awesome though and have had some success lately. For one my debut short film "Shotgun Wedding" starring Jeff Castle and Courtney Thomas (go ahead and IMDB them now) was shot against all odds.

http://www.imdb.com/name/nm1115424/

http://www.imdb.com/name/nm2315827/

I have some unbelievable stories from that but will save most of it for the DVD commentary. One instance is that I didn't have an actress as of 9:30 the night before the shoot but showed up at Courtney's back porch with my production manager that had not spoken to her for more than a year to pitch the film to her. It was a one in a million shot and she was perfect. How's that for a Hollywood moment?

Another reason is I started a 50 hour a week job at a TV show. I've decided not to write about this job. The blog posts from me working at AFV are pretty hysterical ( ex. falling on my ass talking about lesbian strippers to Tom Bergeron) but this is a little more serious than that (no offense to America's Funniest Videos) so it's best we leave that where it is.

I also got a gig writing for Kush LA Magazine. If you live in Los Angeles County please pick up a copy at your local 7/11 or Whole Foods! I've been looking to get more copies and have had great difficulty so if you haven't gotten yours yet, stop reading and go get a fucking copy.

If you don't live in Los Angeles then don't feel rushed just go to www.dailybuds.com and read the article online. I've got pg. 76-77.

Ok now with all the shameless self promotion bull shit aside let's get to some fun!

I was working my mind grapes around today trying to think of a wonderfully ridiculous story I could share. Overwhelmed with my recent good tidings I couldn't help but reminisce on some of my greatest achievements. Granted, my idea of an accomplishment my vary drastically than your average chap.

But then again your average chap is not "Fro-Spotted"

http://www.flickr.com/photos/frolab/3854157488/in/set-72157602623626632/

I began to jot down some of my fondest memories over the years during my lunch break as I ate my caesar salad. I took a huge bite that had too many croutons in it when the phone rang. It was inconvenient not only because I began laughing when I remembered number 2 on the list but also because I actually answered the phone. Croutons all over my computer screen.

That instance didn't make the list but it is a funny visual. The following list is in no particular order. Cheers!

1.) Being kicked out of not one but two bars consecutively for doing a Mexican hat dance wearing an authentic Mexican poncho, huge sombrero and perfectly drawn-on Sharpie mustache. I exited to applause and by security at both establishments, respectively.

2.) Convincing a girl at a bar in Ottawa that I was Gene Simmons' son (Nick Simmons) and her taking me home with her only to realize I was not in fact Gene Simmons' son far to late. I'll let you decide if there is a striking similarity or that this girl was just strikingly dumb.

a.) http://meaningfuldistractions.files.wordpress.com/2008/06/nicksimmons.jpg

3.) Winning the first and only legitimate fist fight I have ever been in.

4.) Surviving Las Vegas -

A.) First visit, took acid and went to a burlesque show but had to leave early when an elderly obese man sitting next to me began talking dirty to himself. I left the theatre by rolling down the stairs in an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

B.) I was hit by a taxi cab, rolled off the hood and the cabbie sped off. I then got a beer and shrugged it off.

C.) I woke up in a random bed 15 minutes outside of Vegas to an old lady screaming at me in Spanish. I grabbed my clothes, ran out and waited 15 minutes in the parking lot before the girl that brought me there came out to explained that was her mom and she gave me a very silent/awkward ride back to Caesar's Palace.

5.) Actually getting down the intermediate course on the mountain in Vail the first time I went snow boarding. Regardless of the fact that ski patrol was begging me to stop because they couldn't watch it anymore.

6.) Living inside a make-shirt fort in my UCLA dorm room my first summer in LA. The maids never took it down, changed my sheets and even cleaned one of the bongs sitting next to my mattress. Things went down in that fort that shall never be spoken of outside the fort.

7.) Calling Dee Snider from Twisted Sister a douche bag to his face.

8.) Having the OG of the West Adams Crips set over to my apartment. I wanted to shoot a video on his block and no white person that wasn't a cop had done that in years. He was one of the most polite and respectful people I have ever met in my life. He showed me nothing but love and let me shoot the video on his block.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3HhiGd_Wbls

9.) Creating The Ice Cream Cone Assassin character. This began with me discovering the incredible costume in my friend's closet. I loved it so much I wore it out to the bars and to victory in a Halloween contest. I loved it so much I made this trailer for a faux-action movie for my film class. Nobody got it. I mean not a single soul said a word for a very long time after I showed it in class. I just sat in the back of the room giggling and feeling extremely weird.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YFtFu9JoGho

10.) Living up to my word to all my friend's back home when I said I was going to come out here and own it. I have tossed around a whole lot of horse manure in my day but I have always been very serious when I say "It don't stooooooooop!" Because it sure as hell hasn't.

With Love & Respect Always,

Mike James

"SHOTGUN WEDDING" & OTHER UPDATES!!!

Hello all! I have not been posting as often because I have been incredibly busy.

1.) I've been doing improv at the UCB Theatre in Los Angeles. I will have a show coming up in September which I will provide more details come closer to the show.

2.) I am now a columnist for Kush LA Magazine. Please look for Kush LA Magazine at all 7/11 stops and Whole Foods if you are in the LA/San Diego County areas August 20th to pick up your free copy. Or visit www.dailybuds.com to be able to access the full experience.

3.) Last Saturday I shot a short film entitled "Shotgun Wedding" on a Panasonic HVX-200. It looks absolutely beautiful and I will be spending all my free time editing it for the next couple months...which brings me to free time.

4.) I actually got a job. At a TV show and I'm not just a coffee bitch. It was an actual move up and because of it I do not plan on sharing many details of my new position. It's a lot of hours though and will cut into my ridiculousness time.

Do not fear however because within the deep dark catacombs that make up the Mike James Archives are brilliant tales of mystery and suspense. I will occasionally put up some new stuff here and there but mostly I'll throw up some of the random stream of consciousness that I have woken up to on my computer screen having no recollection of writing. That stuff is always interesting.

I do not want to lose or alienate my beloved fans of The Holla. Just hang tight for some really, awesome shit I've got cooking up and I promise it will be worth it. 2010 looks like I will be festival hoping from the looks of my footage.

Love & Respect,

Mike James

When Making It Rain Goes Wrong

Pictured above: Future head of the Federal Reserve

I was having a conversation with a friend last night about Pacman Jones, the pro-football player who is not currently on a team. On July 18th he was involved in an incident in a Las Vegas strip club that lead to the shooting of three people.

Watch it here.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2PDGTom0gZM

The incident was caught on camera and according to ESPN it's very offensive and disturbing. I however found it absolutely hilarious. There are many reasons as to why I find some douche bag, faux-gangsta, out-of-work pro-football player throwing $100,000 dollars on a bunch of strippers and having that act lead to violence funny even though when you put it that way it's not funny at all.

There are several things in this video that I find absolutely ridiculous. First is how nonchalantly he is "making it rain". If there has ever been anyone that makes it seem to be a hassle to have an armful of thousands of dollars this guy does it so better than anyone.

Jones creates a torrential down pour that completely inhibits the hoes from doing their thing. This is where Jermaine Dupri decides to enter his two cents.

The guy that is famous for just appearing in other rappers videos and "makin it rain" all of a sudden appears in this very strip club and hands out a lesson in "makin it rain". Dupri stakes his case as the foremost expert on "makin it rain on hoes" and instructs the hoes to keep dancing and not pick up the thousands of dollars that Jones is throwing about.

We have now reached a fork in the road of strip club etiquette. Is it appropriate to advise another patron on how to make it rain on the hoes or should you keep your tips to yourself? Pacman Jones wasn't looking for tips that night and he responded with bullets. I suppose this incident will go down as a precedent in strip club policy.

This sociopath then beats on one of the strippers because she is too busy scooping up all this money and not dancing. I have always taken the side of strippers but now more than ever I feel we need to rally behind strippers and show them our support.

I don't know if anyone has noticed but we are in a bit of an economic downturn. No jobs. No money. No hope. Somewhere there is a single mother with implants that are sponsored by some cheese ball gold necklace wearing Vegas sleeze bag and she is living the American Dream in it's current state.

She is grinding her fake tits all day on business men that to some degree are probably responsible for her best bet of making a better life is being naked on stage all day.

America, land of the free home of tragic irony.

I would like to see Timothy Geitner try to regulate the amount of "rain" one can "make" in a strip club. I think he would be just as capable at that as he is at balancing out our economy.

Both are frivolous efforts that end in violence so let's give him a shot.

In fact I think Jermaine Dupri and every person making a financial decision in our government is full of fucking shit! I think our Secretary of the Treasury is the foremost authority on "makin' it rain on dem hoes". Pacman Jones is shelling out a measly $100,000 on strippers in Vegas but the Obama Administration is showering the most atrociously corrupt individuals in American history with billions of dollars.

Who really knows how to "make it rain"?

This debacle is certainly uniquely American and would never happen anywhere else in the world. Our entire planet is literally coming apart at the seems. I might have a supremely dark sense of humor in that I find it funny that somebody is willing to kill somebody else over how they shower strippers with money but then again it's nothing new.

George W. Bush tried to make it rain oil. Robert McNamara made it rain napalm. Pacman Jones made it rain in thousands of one dollar bills. You may call me crazy but I feel it all ended in similar outcomes.

With Love & Respect,

Mike James

Tripping In Amsterdam Story

There is no good way to intro this so I'm just going to tell you my next story from Amsterdam and I will assure you that absolutely every detail is completely true.

This one is about magical mushrooms.

The first part of this experience I'm going to copy word for word from my journal I had with me while I was tripping. There is four hours that I simply have no clue how to write about besides just copy down what I wrote in my journal. The second part is much different and was much more enjoyable for me. So I invite you to vicariously enjoy a mushroom trip in Amsterdam through me!

Sunday July 5th 2009: somewhere between 5:oo P.M. and 3 A.M.

I'm not sure you can call what I just experienced magical. Magic normally is just an illusion and it makes little kids laugh and clap. There was no trick about what just happened. I ate the most intense mushrooms they had and almost lost my mind. Where is the magic?

They were called Psilocybe Atlantis magic truffles. The box says "Numenorian XTC" that just sounds too intense. These are the most beastly, not neighborly mushrooms I've come across in my day. I am a very experienced eater of fungus so I was very confident I would have no problem handling these things. This was not the case.

After we purchased them I suggested we go check out a museum and wait for them to kick in. My buddy, let's call him Clarence had a better idea to chomp them at a coffee shop and walk back to the hotel afterwards. we ate them and smoked some hash then walked back to get a beer at the bar.

We all started to get really quiet sitting at the hotel bar. My stomach started to feel real funny and I began to pour sweat. All of a sudden the liquor bottles began to grow and shrink. The necks of the bottles were swaying back and like prairie grass in a light breeze.

The golden lighting that shined down from the top of the bar was illuminating my Heineken like it was God's own cold one. I turned to my left to look at my other buddy, let's call him Billy D. His face was frozen in utter bewilderment and terror. The glaze of confusion and fear in his eyes didn't settle with me in any way.

I stood up fast and almost feel over. I exclaimed that I needed a cigarette and walked outside. The air hit me like jumping into a pool of cool water but when I lit my cigarette it felt like molten lava being poured down my throat. I continued smoking it nonetheless because I had to get myself together by the end of it.

Billy D came out and let off what had to of been a 10 minute long rolling fart that smelled like rancid Indian food. I was too concerned about the concrete steps that were forming into waves and seemed impossible to navigate but I'm pretty sure everyone in front of the hotel immediately distanced themselves from us.

I threw my cigarette down after only a couple puffs and said "I think I'm going puke."

I turned around to walk inside but knew I didn't have a shot in hell of making it to the room or even through the lobby for that matter. I hustled back down the wavy hotel steps, stumbled around the corner, for some reason I was able to hold off and let a chick on a bike pass by me then I just unleashed the beast.

I yaked several times right there on the sidewalk in Amsterdam before collapsing backwards on the front steps of our hotel. (NH Hotels Amsterdam) Billy D comes to save me as Clarence just stared blankly. He asked me if I needed some water. I mumbled some gibberish and handed 20 euro for the beers.

"Take care of it!" Is all I could muster out.

I wanted no part of that beer. I gathered myself for a moment. I was able to mainly because I was so shocked that no one even noticed what I had just done. I got up and we finally made it up to the room. I had been hit with a 10 ten ton Day-Glo painted truck. Completely leveled.

Once I made it to the room I laid on the bed unable to move anything but my eye balls, which were doing a lot of moving. The ceiling was much more active than I was.

That's when Billy D started shitting. It was nonchalant at first but as soon as he walked out of the bathroom the first time he turned right back around.

I tried to get up and stand but only made it to the trash can where I began to puke again. I'm very glad I didn't run into the bathroom because I would of puked on Billy D while he was having explosive diarrhea.

Clarence was laughing so hard tears were pouring down his face. I held the trash can and got up feeling much better. Billy D walked out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel.

"I'm tripping so hard I shit myself." he says with gigantic pupils but completely serious face.

"What?!" Another roar of laughter and I begin puking again.

"I can't stop shitting. I don't know what's wrong with me. I wasn't expecting this. This isn't that much fun."

"Maybe it's the fact you've been eating nothing but huge bowls of fries and mayonaisse since we got here" Clarence manages to add.

"It may be but I don't think I can go far from a toilet."

"Come on man your fine. Look at me I've puke like three times now."I said trying to convince him to come.

"You at least have control over your bowels!"

"That's true I do."

I had to get out of the room. There was waaaaay too much shitting and puking going on in such a small area. I wanted nothing more than to make it across the street to lay in the grass beside the beautiful canal. There was a shady patch that I thought could be considered a "safe-zone" for tripping. I didn't want to be in the room with Billy D shitting everywhere.

If I completely lost my mind in the process of trying to get to the grass by God I was going to. I had never wanted something so bad than to make it out of that hotel room and get down to the grass.

Clarence and I decided that it was time to venture out and try this. It was difficult to part ways with Billy D. I didn't know what was happening to him but I honestly was not that interested in finding out at that moment.

We made it to the elevators. The Nederlands is supposedly the tallest nation in the world and I have seen many tall people here but what were they thinking when they designed our hotel's elevators? They had to of outsourced to a contractor from Smurf Village because this thing felt like a sardine can.

This guy was standing literally 3 inches from Clarence's tomato red face. This guy was breathing so hard it was creating a gulf stream effect in that stupid little elevator. If Billy D had come with us everyone in the elevator would of been put out by his ass stench and nobody would figure it out until the toxicology reports came back weeks later.

It seemed to take lifetimes for the door to finally open and I made a direct move for outside.

I saw the cars, the people on bikes, an extremely gorgeous skyline and almost completely forgot what I came outside to do. Then I saw the canal and a very welcoming patch of shade.

Must get to "safe-trip zone". The brick streets of Amsterdam and very confusing. If I had to drive I would being doing head-ons into trams, falling into the canal while trying to parallel park and being completely lost all the time. It is hard enough to just walk across the street here.

I made it past 3 lanes of traffic and had only one more to go. I didn't make the light in time and a mob of traffic is sailing past me on both sides. I look at Clarence and he is just giggling. He has no idea. I'm fully aware of the danger. I was the victim of a hit and run in Vegas one time but that's a different story.

I wonder why the "safe-trip zone" is so dangerous to get to. When you are tripping your balls off there is no time for irony.

I finally made it to the grass, proceeded to roll around on the ground and reflected on my long tumultulous journey that has brought me here.

What a long strange trip it has been.

That was the last sentence I had written. It's difficult to calculate but I imagine approximately 15-20 minutes passed that entire time.

For the next four hours I did some frolicking, staring, pondering, chasing ducks, puking then I would repeat starting from the beginning.

After probably 4 hours of this it was I all of a sudden woke up from this Alice in Wonderland like dream. I realized I had completely forgot about Billy D and figured he had gone insane and crapped all over our walls. This was a concern because the hotel had my credit card.

We got upstairs and Billy D was sitting with his feet propped up watching an IRL race. It was the Texas 550 which is my second favorite race on the schedule but that's completely besides the point because I could not believe an Indy car race was on in Dutch at that time. I was expecting to open the door and the room would be trashed with shit literally everywhere.

Billy D, happy as could be said "Briscoe is making a run for it man I can't believe it! Oh and I stopped shitting."

I burst into laughter and was unable to muster any kind of a response. There was no response really needed. Then I watched the final 15 laps. It was impossible to understand anything. I don't think the Dutch announcers really even knew what was happening.

Billy D said soon after we left he found the race on TV and it pretty much saved himself from setting his mind adrift. The best part was he said every twenty minutes he would have to shit but didn't want to miss the laps it took for him to finish. So he turns the volume up on the TV to go take a shit but doesn't figure it out until he is on his throne that it isn't going to work.

I won't drone on about the rest of the night because it was a long one and this has been long enough. We caught up and laughed a lot. I hadn't seen my friends for more than a year and a half so it was pretty great to just bull shit with them like the good old days. It felt good to see them and to be able to share another wild experience together in such a beautiful place.

That's why I went to Amsterdam. The most incredible moments of your life are shared. So many times I will enjoy retelling a story to a bunch of people than actually living through it. That's what makes it worth it and fun. It's all about the clown and it always has been.

With Love & Respect,

Mike