A weekend of muscle-twitching, teeth grinding fun and music

This weekend was D-Fest, Tulsa's huge arts and music festival. It's a good mix of local and visiting bands, lots of cool stuff to do, and it was tons of fun. And, Three Penny Upright scored me an artist's all-access pass.

Friday night was our night for fun. We saw Sir Threadius Mongus at the Continental, The Oh Johnny Girls and The Starkweather Boys at 1974. All great shows, and I'm so glad I went. The rest of the night I hung out with friends at the Nightingale Theater booth and more than abused my privileges at the artist's lounge, where there were complimentary snacks and more essential to my ability to get through the night, Red Bull.

Here-to-fore, I've never really liked Red Bull. I've felt that it tasted like strawberry soda that's been filtered through a mummy, with a color that suggests that it should never be seen outside of the can...kinda like taking a piss after a B-complex supplement. However, with them giving the stuff away, along with my want/need to stay out and party, I've changed my tone a bit. I think I downed about 5-6 over the course of the night (a couple of them with vodka), and Red Bull gave me the energy I needed to stay out until nearly four in the morning.

I could've kept going with a couple more, but when I felt the desire to ask for a needle and spoon with my next Red Bull, I decided to retire for the evening - or morning - at this point. Thankfully, I crashed from the stuff as soon as I got home, before the need to dismantle my electronics and clean the house with my mind set in.

I slept in until the afternoon on Saturday and headed back to D-Fest around four. Three Penny played at Tsunami at eight, and I went into my usual roadie mode, helping the band get checked in and set up. It was a special set for them, their last with their bass player Don, who's moving to Massachusetts next week. After the show, we walked around, checked out a few bands, had a few drinks. Sure enough, I had a few more Red Bulls. At one point in the evening, I think I got so hyper that my speech patterns devolved into Morse code, and I might, might have seen through time at one point.

By the way, when you've had a few Red Bulls, the last drink I recommend you throw in the mix is a White Russian. I'm pretty sure the chemical reaction in my stomach produced pure nitro-glycerine, but it soon transgressed into a feeling of calm and harmony with the universe. Everything was golden-hued, there was no more pain, and I marveled at the sight of everyone's auras.

I left around midnight to head to a pool party I had been invited to. Upon walking in the door, my buddy Tony commented on how I smelled "fruity", which meant that A) the Red Bull was escaping through my pores, and B) I'm really lousy at hiding new-found addictions.

Swimming was a fun way to end the night, even though it gave me a full-body hangover in the morning. But, a few aspirin and some methadone to calm the shakes and I was right as rain.

Today, I lounged around the house for a while and went to Don and Amber's going-away party. Good times, noodle salad. I'm sure gonna miss them.

Now, I'm back home and detoxing from the Red Bull. You know, a soda product shouldn't have this effect on the human body, nor should it garner a feeling of empathy for meth addicts. But on the up side, the chills I'm experiencing means I'm not wasting electricity on the air conditioner, and I'm typing reasonably well for a man shaking like an off-kilter Maytag. And now, I got to empty the puke bucket, hose myself off, get the dead baby off the ceiling and get some sleep.