From Others: Patricia Nelson's Road Story

I had a party scheduled months prior for Halloween, and was delighted to hear last minute that Doug Stanhope had picked up the week at the Chicago Zanies and would be in town for the festivities...until it actually came to him wreaking havoc in my house. Here is a brief summary of the events which unfolded in my apartment with the Zanies staff and a sorted mix of comedians on All Hallow's Eve...

Doug had decided he would experiment with the development of his one man show at Zanies on Sunday night by inviting my boyfriend, Eddie, to accompany his comedy at the dilapidated piano seeking refuge on the club's stage. The piano player showed up late, however, and Doug had directed me, "If he gets here while I'm on stage, just send him up and I won't even acknowlege him." That is exactly what happened, and fifteen minutes into his set, Eddie made his way to the stage, Sam Adams in hand, walking deadpan past Doug and making a subtle, yet dramatic procession of pulling out the piano bench and settling in to play, first softly, then very much with the rhythm of Doug's act. The effect was absolutely intriguing, and the two of them played to the back of the room, sending at least two people to the bathroom in fear of pissing their pants in the most literal sense of the word.

After the show ended, we quickly gathered up our belongings, verified that Doug had been paid, and all quickly migrated to the party that was already in full swing at my house. Then again, if Doug Stanhope is showing up, nothing is REALLY in full swing until he arrives.

We got to my house and settled in just in time for the hourly Cuervo shot which is customary at all my parties. It wasn't soon after the second hourly shot (at midnight), that things began to go awry.

After a certain comic was found in my roommates bedroom, "just sleeping" with a certain waitress (with her body glitter all over his face), Auggie Smith, who made a guest appearance in town just for my party (as far as you know), was found in a sixty-nine with another waitress who shall remain nameless as far as this tale is concerned.

The pump organ was rolled in a few minutes later, and various persons took a crack at making carnival noises in sporadic intervals of typically drunken attentions. I never did get to sing the song I wrote for Susanna Lee, which was the reason it was brought up from the basement in the first place.

A picture was posed for, and Doug dropped his pants for the camera, much to the surprise of anyone who didn't know him. Much to the boredom of anyone that did. After you've known Doug a while, you expect it. Seeing Doug Stanhope whip out his penis is like seeing a baby spit up. At first it's cute, even though it's kind of disgusting, but after it happens a few times, you just have to shake your head and think to yourself, "Oh, God, not again..." and simply deal with it. Then of course, there's a mess to clean up.....

Doug Stanhope was definitely the life of the party, and played host by kissing everyone on the mouth and with tongue, including John Roy, who has since moved to San Francisco and is performing in a not-for-profit musical production of Philladelphia while going to beauty school. We love him for him. Ironically, Stanhope was quoted as saying, "I think I kissed just about everybody last night... oh - except Josh Perlman." This is because Josh is staying faithful to Anthony Clark. We're looking in to whether or not Scott Perlman was involved in a tongueing as well. It is assumed, but at this point we cannot confirm anything.

Mel and myself switched costumes mid-party, and she became Ginger from Gilligan's Island, and I became Charlie Chaplan. Little did I know that Eddie was commenting on the sexy dress all night, and was unwittingly to all parties concerned, placed in a rather precarious dichotomy of seeing his girl's co-worker donned in the dress he wanted nothing more than to rip off of it's original wearer. I also got to see Mel close to naked. If John Roy hadn't come out at the party, I'd have had to paint with words the sight of Mel in her underwear. Phew!

Dan Carlson had a few cocktails and disappeared without a trace into the night. He never did get to see Auggie Smith do time, although he DID catch wind of him getting a blowjob, and I think he was pretty impressed. I don't want to jump the gun, but if I were you, I'd look for Auggie at the Third Annual Chicago Comedy Festival. Doug and Eddie disappeared into my bedroom for an indetermineable amount of time before Mel inquired on their whereabouts. "They're probably making out in my room," was my semi-concerned reply. Mel entered the lion's den in search of the MIA partiers, and quickly found herself being held hostage in a game referred to as "The V.I.P. Room". The object of this game is to leave the remainder of the party guessing as to what events are transpiring mysteriously behind closed doors and to make them jealous, if at all possible, and is most effectively done in sexual innuendo. I was the next to be hijacked. Doug Stanhope, as expected, was the instigator of the game, and Eddie, Mel, and I quickly conspired with him. Doug first emerged from my bedroom naked, parading through the party to retrieve a beer from the refrigerator in a most nonchalant manner. He returned to the room with a beer, the V.I.P. room giggling like preteens at a porno. Doug decided to donn a piece of suggestive clothing next, and I volunteered the white lace teddy I had worn beneath my dress and now had on under Mel's Charlie Chaplan costume. Much to my chagrin (as far as anyone else is concerned), I was shocked and a bit confused at finding myself naked, but quickly slid on a pair of purple polyester bell bottoms and a blazer. Doug walked through the party, having a bit of a dilema with keeping his testicles contained in his lingerie. Let me tell you, he looked like a breathtaking bride on her honeymoon night, all ripe and virginal and ready to be deflowered.

The party haphazzardly migrated into my bedroom, at least a large majority of it. Despite Mel's insistance that he not be allowed into the V.I.P. room on dress code violation (i.e., he was wearing a turtleneck) her decision was overridden, and Auggie and the waitress who shall remain nameless came in and got to the good stuff, quickly becoming nearly oblivious to the large crowd of people that had gathered around their escapades on my bed. That is, until Doug Stanhope started dripping wax on the exposed rear end of the girl. Mel retaliated by dripping wax on Doug's ass. I doubt I can take the teddy to my regular dry cleaner and maintain the slightest bit of respect from her.

John Roy was allowed into the room, and soon emerged with his penis exposed. Mel was seen exiting the room wrapped in a blanket on a mission to change the CD, then, a half an hour later, flung open the door with a bloodcurdling scream, crying hysterically, "This has never happened to me before! I thought they were my friends!" No one really knows what was going on in there, but the outsiders were only left guessing. They may never know. It's possible that the public will discover the whereabouts of Jimmy Hoffa first.

After that, it gets a little hazy, but this was near the time that the party broke up. That was around 6:45 a.m. The downstairs neighbor had made an appearance, but he slipped out unnoticed, and all I know is that I saw him coming home the next day, and he refused to make eye contact with me. I think he's scared of me now. Auggie and his girl disappeared from the building together, and Mel gave Stanhope a ride back to the condo, after he grappled through my laundry pile in search of the clothing he walked in wearing. I vaguely recall telling them goodbye.

I awoke in the late morning the next day, to the sound of Doug Stanhope crowing like a rooster with throat cancer into my answering machine. "Fuck him," I thought, noticing that my apartment smelled like a pool hall and my brain was rattling around in my head like a stale prune, all black and sticky and shrivelled. I waded through the aftermath of liquor bottles, tipped over cups, full ashtrays and empty beer cans, not to mention my wax-caked bedclothes, smiling at the second incoming call where Doug relayed his breakfast order into my machine.

As I laughed at his tale of the stupid waitress he'd had at Mitchell's, I managed to find several items which were left at my party. This is the lost and found portion of my little piece. If any of the items listed below belong to you, please contact me.

 

* 1 blond wig, chin length, curly

* 1 pair of plywood slabs graffittied with radical religious slogans

* 1 pair of women's CK blue jeans, size 14

* approximately 150 half-full plastic cups, 12 oz.

* approximately 80 beer cans, various brands, most empty

* 1 pump organ * 3 empty 1.5 liter bottles, 2 Cuervo, 1 Jack Daniels

* 1 brown faux fur coat, calf-length

* 27 empty cigarette packs, various brands

* 3 blue garbage bags, torn * 1 alien mask

* 1 statue of liberty torch, cardboard

* 0.8 oz. unidentifiable body fluid, found on my roommate's bed

* 8 CD's, entitled "Doug Stanhope: Sicko", found in my car.

 

Mel Gillpin was quoted as saying, "It was good, clean fun." John Roy, who is apparently a political wacko, said simply, "The Republican Party: We're Changin'." Eddie Dixon simply asked, "So, how long until Doug Stanhope stops coming up in conversation?" All I know is, it could be a while. PATRICIA WAITS