Anti abandons the internet.

The procedure is ritualistic at best. A process that dealer McDope and I don't really enjoy, but is a necessary means to necessary ends. He has the drugs I want to buy, and I have the money he wants to trade the drugs for.

so first you call the cell phone, even though you know it's going straight to voice mail, because dealer McDope lives in the redondo beach triangle, a residential pocket known for it's poor cell phone reception. And off of the voicemail you get his home phone number, and repeat it to yourself, so as not to forget the digits, while you hang up and prepare to dial. This step could be eliminated if dealer McDope's home phone was as easy to remember as his cell phone number. But I digress...

so finally you have Mr. McDope on the phone, and it goes like this, "heyyy-lo..."

"sup deal? whatchu got cookin?"

"is this antee? howz it? And what's the word on the street?"

"uhhh... birds the word, bossman. sooooo... can I roll through?"

"yep. it's all good, baby."

"sweet. peace out."

and it's funny, because it's the same exact conversation every time. If you ever heard me call dealer McDope before, you'd have think I stole that dialogue straight from the stenographer I have hiding under my couch.

parking in front of dealer McDope's house is the best, you can park like a total asshole, and when you walk up and open the broken screen door, you always know what the living room will look like before you enter. There will be deal and his roommate sprawled out on their couches that don't match, one of them glued to the playstation 2 playing some game that usually has a lot of machine guns in it, and the other one is glued to the other TV, stacked on the video game TV, watching ESPN's spotscenter, and both of them making gossipy small talk about whatever the latest sports drama happens to be.

today it was some bullshit Kobe said about Karl "the mailman" Malone, and how kobe is so annoying and everyone just wishes we still had Shaq.

I know nothing about sports except that I suck at them, and video games are about as interesting to me as watching paint dry, so this is the hardest part of the ritual... waiting for dealer McDope to get up off his ass, and weigh me out my drugs.

lots of times I try and stand, and refuse a seat when offered to me, in the hopes that my hovering will put the pressure on to dealer, and get him moving faster. It never really works.

the truth is that good things come to those who wait, and eventually McDope will look at me, and in a hushed tone ask me, "hey antee, what didchoo want?" and I'll answer, "a quad"

he doesn't move fast, he's very slothlike in the motor-functions department, so he stretches, slowly stands, and disappears into the depths of his spiderhole over the garage that he calls "a bedroom."

during the weighing of the drugs which apparently dealer likes to do in private, the roommate makes small talk with the little info he remembers about me... "so hey, how do I get to that blog of yours again?"

"google antidis."

"anti? diss? with two S's?"

"nah, with one s. And together like one word."

"how do I start one of those blogs, is it easy?"

"yah I guess, whatever."

but I like the room mate. He's actually sincere, and even checked out the copy of my book I brought over, and said he wanted to buy one. mebbe I'll just give him that one.

eventually my drugs are delivered to me in a ziplock baggie as I chat with the roommate, and I do the no look pass with my C-note. There's no need to look as you pass dealer McDope a hundred dollar bill, the same way you can close your eyes while tossing a sea lion a sardine. they'll never miss.

and after that it's all on you. leave? stay? whatever. dealer McDope and his pal aren't gonna boot you, but they'll drop subtle hints if you decide to stay... like "[yawn] man antee, I am SO tired." and when they start doing that song and dance, it's time to shove your $100 sack into your jeans, and gets to truckin.

I love that drive home, as you smell the nuggets through the plastic of that zip lock baggie. mmm mmm MMM.

and this whole procedure happens the same way every time. The only variables are that every once in a while Dealer Mcdope plays for me his new CD's, and every once in a while I have big tanky waiting in the car playing her gameboy. That's about it.

oh yah, the weed and hash used on the cover of my book came from dealer McDope. Neat, eh?

posted by John  # 1:37 AM