The year was 1994, 95 or 96 (Sorry, the mid to late 90's are kind of a blur) and I was returning to Iowa City to finish school. Upon my arrival, I knew I could depend on my good friends (Bainbridge, Roberson, Caughron, etc.) to hook me up with suitable living arrangements. Sure enough, I secured my room at the now legendary Filthy House and met my new roommate who I then knew only by name. Judd welcomed Abbie (my toothless 16yr. old vicious cocker spaniel) and I into his residence without hesitation and we soon became good friends.

The days at the Filthy were short, often starting well into the afternoon, and the nights were long, often starting well into the afternoon (now that I think about it, I'm not sure there were days at all) and Judd and I made the most of them. With our mind at ease (and our minds were always at ease) Judd and I would sit for long hours and discuss the worldly topics of the day. We shared many a Winston (or a Bronson accordingly) during these long discussions (In fact when I breath really, really deeply, I can still feel the smoke in my lungs today. I bet Judd can too) and thought my mind is a little fuzzy, I'm sure we solved many of the world's problems (Had we only thought to write them down (Doogh)).

Yes, those were good times spent at the Filthy, but true friendship is built not during the good times but rather when the wind blows sour. Though I don't want to go into great detail (for obvious reasons ), a minor medical issue brought Judd and I even closer together, literally. I found myself under the knife for a minor surgery on my ass and true to form, when I needed help the most Judd was there. Judd packed my ass real good for 18 days straight!