Sitting in my dark living room with Alonzo, cracking open a tall can of Heineken, and recording another episode of Bud and Roach Show had become the norm. It was our routine, and we had gotten pretty good at it. We knew each other’s cues and how to play off of each other’s jokes. The living room was always dimly lit, with just enough light to see the sound equipment in front of us. It was our sanctuary, our place to create and let loose. As I took a sip of my beer, I could feel the familiar buzz start to set in. I was relaxed, loose, and ready to entertain. Alonzo was across from me, with a mischievous grin on his face, ready to bring the heat. We were always at our best when we were a little tipsy, and it showed in our banter. We fed off of each other’s energy, bouncing jokes and ideas back and forth like a well-oiled machine. The sound of our laughter echoed through the living room as we recorded another episode. We joked about our personal lives, our opinions on current events, and anything else that came to mind. We were unfiltered, raw, and unapologetically ourselves. We knew that was what made our show so special, and we weren’t afraid to lean into it. As the night wore on, and the beer kept flowing, we got more outrageous. It was our own little world, and we were in our element. I knew that getting drunk during our recordings wasn’t the healthiest choice. But at the time, it felt like an integral part of the production process. It was my way of letting loose, of getting into the right headspace to create something truly special. But it was taking a toll, as it always has, and my ego would soon find its way to the surface, and my patience for success had, once again, begun to wear itself thin.

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