Garbage Memo – October 10, 1981 – Anonymous, Miscellaneous
/Well well here it is. Another fine Saturday morning. Wait, sirens and noise, there's a fucking parade outside the window. My God it's the fucking Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders. They're smiling and waving to me as I hang out the fucking window. I just ignore the because I am a suave debonair like guy, really, no kidding. I had Randall's sunglasses on so I looked like Peter Fonda from Easy Rider. Now about last night. The fuckers (check yesterday's memo to find out who) all fell asleep in like a hippie commune. I was just there in the main store sitting by myself drinking Yacht Club, and listening to Metal Machine Music, it be real good. Then all of a sudden Tommy comes back from drinking coffee with two people from New Philly. The two people leave, then Tommy puts in Elvis Costello's first album and we sing along, “Oh the angels wanna wear my red shoes.” Then Randall comes out from the hippie commune and starts typing shit and saying weird things, he had streaks of black ink on his face (refer to quotes from the previous night). Oops, wrong order. Before that Heidi and some Mary girl came over. I told them there was a hippy commune in the back room. She didn't believe me, so she opened the door, which Jerry just happened to be passed out against. He fell out just like a corpse. The girls left. Later, Toad and Spot arrived. Then we ran out of beer. Everybody passed out, except Randy, who had been attacking Tom with the vice grip pliers, so I drank all the beers they had opened before they had passed out. After I finished it I went to sleep. And now it's today (refer to beginning).
SO DO THE SEDAT! Yes, October 10. Hi I'm Randy and may be, too, a person that types the Garbage Memo. How do you like it so far? IT'S NOT WRITING IT'S TYPING. Well, I'm getting drunk again. Keith and Randall just went down to the fucking drinkfest to get some food. They left this fucking asshole in charge of the fucking store. Fuck typing, let's drink.
Hi, I'm Randy and I'm writing a review of the corndog I just ate. I got the last damn corndog at the Octoberfest today and it was for a reduced price. Well, let me say I had a corndog earlier and it was good, but this one like it was lame. It was completely soaked with greeeese, like horrible. I couldn't eat the whole thing and had to give some to Keith. You know, grease. Well I am drinking a lot of Yacht Club now and soon may be able to write about last night. FUCK.