Catalina Carousal V

"there was this one time, when we were all on carousal, and we were drinking a lot of beer. we got somewhere, and we kept drinking beer, and some of us did acid, and kept drinking beer. and then i was in the la jolla cove at 3:00 a.m., and i was swimming across it because it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. and scar was back on shore watching for a while, and then he went for some beer. and i was still swimming, but the waves were pretty big and there were some rocks that the waves were sort of washing things that were floating/swimming into these rocks. and then it occurred to me that if i kept trying to swim across the cove i would be bait by morning, but i wasn't in a good spot to make this realization. so i looked around kind of panicked, and kind of hoped that someone properly trained in ocean rescue would take me back to where the beer was. but that didn't happen, so i had to decide sort of quickly that i would have to go toward the rocks and find a soft spot to land and climb up the cliff. all this was hard to do fully clothed, as jeans are heavy and restrictive while swimming, especially when it feels like your life is at stake. anyway, i made it up the cliff and even recovered my boots from the beach the next morning. then later the next night there was a stripper or whore, or something, and she was in a room w/ some carousers and some damaged furniture and there was some beer."

- John M.

"It was really a blur, but the standout event for me was last day at the Red Onion. Ya know, when we were drinking those vats of Volcanoes(?) from long straws. John M. took a swim in the ocean at Mission Beach and almost ended up sleeping with the fishes. He came back dripping wet and emphatically tried to tell anybody who would listen that he almost drown, being sucked out with the undercurrent. No one paid no never mind to him. Downtrodden and exhausted, John found his way to a stock room and caught a few Z's - good thing he had his football with him. He did, however, leave his shoes and wallet behind at the table which caused us to wonder where he was when it came time to leave. Not finding him, we had another Volcano while passing up the last flight back home. About a dozen of us stayed long enough to edge into the evening dress code time at the Red Hole - "sorry, fellas. Time to go.". John was now on his own because we went to crash Joe B.'s cabana which he shared with his sister, Barbara. (He showed up at Joe's later on and relayed his sordid tale.)

Now, Bar-bar was a good sport and blushed when we told her how nice her feet were. At first, she laughed when Howie said he wanted to suck on her toes. When he asked again in a more serious tone, she respectfully declined, started to shield her feet from Howie, and threw worried looks at him. Sly dog that he is, Howard waited until conversation changed and Bar's attention drifted elsewhere before he lunged at her foot and deftly shoved her big toe into his mouth, giving it a long hard suck. Bar squealed with unabashed delight and made no effort to struggle. Once Howie fully realized what he was doing and Bar's barefoot, beach-soiled toe funk permeated his Volcano saturated tongue, the marauding conqueror look on his face quickly melded into one of abject disgust. The horror, the horror. He vehemently spat the toe out and downed a beer to wash out his mouth. Bar squealed with unabashed delight.

.......Joe B. had a nice little collection of Hustlers, I believe. The next morning when we were all taking turns in the john purging toxins from our system, we noticed that Howie was in the bathroom for quite some time and intially conjectured that he was probably hunkering over a mean dump. I joked that he was probably wackin'. We all laughed at the thought of a friend tuggin' on his tool in the next room about 15 feet away. About 5 minutes later, Howie finally unlocks the door, and Scott promptly asks him if he was in there wackin'. Howie pops his head around the corner, quickly scans the room full of friends laughing at his expense, decides it is'nt even worth trying to lie because he's been caught red handed (literally), and sheepishly muttters 'yeeeeah'. "

- Scar

"I'm flattered to be a part of so many Carouser memories, but I know I was not the only one to use that Hustler in Joe's bathroom."

- Howard F.

Catalina Carousal V La Jolla, California Shell Beach Apartment Hotel May 3-6, 1990
	"This yer tequila?"