Talk about your Sunday Funday.
Mike from the band Man Down stayed over at my place Saturday night, with the hopes that their 10:20am flight would be cancelled due to the foot of snow that had fallen. In fact, he was so busy hoping that he left his guitar and bag in the cab on the way to my apartment. It was delivered just a shade before 6am, which is not helpful when one needs to be en route to an airport in 2 ½ hours.
I awoke at 9:20am to him on speakerphone waiting to find out his flight's status. Cancelled? No. Late? Not even close. We're flying on time folks. They missed the flight but went to the airport to await the next one, and my desperately hung over self went back to my warm bed and even warmer girlfriend for a few more hours of recovery time.
We re-awoke at 1pm, rested and starving. Dave and I decided that the three of us deserved a monstrous brunch spread, and the cooking began. Panckes? Check. Eggs for scramby-ing? Check. Mini Cinnamon rolls? Check. Hash for brownsing, bread for toasting, and sausage for hot greasing? Check, check, and more check. We ate it all until we were uncomfortable and washed it all down with some pulp-filled OJ, the way Nicole Simpson would want it.
It was my good friend Sexy Steve's 30th birthday, and myriad surprises were in the mix. The ever-gorgeous M needed to run home for her belt and shoe needs, but we have 4 hours before the reservations so we're fine. "Have you seen my car key?" Shit. No I haven't, and you cabbed it downtown. Hmmmm. I think I remember your coat being in about 19 places last night, and that was just at my bar. Your key was in the pocket you say? It's off the keyring and is by itself you say? There's definitely not a spare you say? Hello qwestdex.com, BQ needs some locksmith action in a bad way.
Here's where the wheels come off for a bit. I don't know if anyone out there in the blogisphere have had to get a key made for a car, but it's kinda fascinating. Turns out that on the locking mechanism in the door there's a code that lets locksmiths (after consulting 3 400 page reference manuals) know how to cut the key...where to put the bumps and ridges.
I got really mad at this whole idea, because it was $95 that we didn't need to spend. I got a little salty at M, she put it in perspective and chilled me out, and I offered to go down and deal with the locksmith while she got to gettin' ready. Why? I mean, she lost the key. She didn't have a spare. Why am I doing this. Because she loves me, and I love her. Yeah I'll get a little heated for a sec, but fuck it, right? It's still Steve's 30th and it's still a surprise and we still have 2 hours.
Then he showed up. I can't begin to tell you how the next hour of my life played out, but I can provide you with some highlights. This man scared the hell out of me, but he never stopped working so I played along. At one point M came down to check on me...I simply whispered "Go back upstairs!!" I didn't want him to even look at her. These are some of the talking points that were uttered:
First question out of his mouth after he got the make and model of the car:
"What about you...you a cubicle monkey?"
Solid start for a businessman...
He got a phone call from someone...this is what his end sounded like.
"New Brunswick? That sounds...snowy. Thank you for your cancellation, and visit Britebar.com for all of your beef cleansing needs. Ok, bye now."
I laughed, because I thought that was a joke. He responded,
"No man. I got a buddy who has a company that cleans conveyor belts at butcher plants. You gotta keep it clean. Two weeks ago I got food poisoning from meat. I had a couple pounds of shoulder steak that had gone bad, but I figured I'd cook it anyway. I, you know, pounded it, salted it and then soaked it in Kim Chee juice for a while and then cooked it. So now I got, like, 2lbs of spoiled meat in my intestines, and I gotta do something. So I went in the other end if ya know what I mean. Gave myself an enema with Green Tea and vitamin C. Did you know that the most common reason for a grown man to miss work is constipation? That's why you need fiber."
I had no idea what to say. Ben Quam was speechless. But he kept going without missing a beat...
"I want to start a company that gives experimental breast therapy to women. I'll just, you know, take their breasts and dip them in a mix of green tea, caffine, and chamomille...so they smell good too. Japanese do it, and I don't know if you know this, but they never get cancer. Some of the heaviest smokers on the planet, but still no cancer."
I'd never heard that about the Japanese I told him, but they are a very smart people and have thousands of years of herbal healing to go off of, so...
"I want to write a song for children, to increase awareness about teaching them that music notes are just like numbers. In the parochial system, if you mix numbers around you're labeled slow. I could never keep numbers straight." All this while looking up numbers for the key.
Then he started to tell me about growing up in Denver and how much he hates that city...
"A seven year old can keep a secret, but a 16 year old will tell her dad. They invented the whole child-adult marriage thing in Denver."
What do I say back to that? Then this...
"I want to work with autistic kids, but first I have to clean up my criminal record."
"After talking to the gas station attendants in Littleton, CO, I get it about gas prices and I know the real story about what happened at Columbine. There's a big difference between the haves, who have EVERTHING, and the have-nots, who are mostly Italians and Mexicans. I don't know if you knew this, but Denver used to be all Italian."
Oh boy, I'm so scared at this point. But he's still talking and I'm holding his flashlight as he takes M's door apart...
"Denver gets everything first. They totally control all of the fresh water supply for Las Vegas. You don't think that's power? Los Angeles is number 2, which isn't number one but it's damn close. They got 2 light rails, baseball, basketball...I tell ya, they ran everything in the 90s. Crooked ass mayor. Should be in jail. Legalized robbery and high crimes that the corporate world can't touch. I see these fucking things, man, and I know. I KNOW."
He also lived in Boulder...
"When Boulder was in its limelight, it was something to see. But they've cleaned up the alcohol there now, and now it's all yuppies. Yuppies just...y'know...riding their bikes."
Without missing a beat he went into more "next jobs"...
"I'm going to open a bookstore. But it'll be online. I can't have all that traffic at my location, but you know how that goes." "What kind of books will you have?" I ask him. "Mostly novels, because that's what my friend has. Then I'll take some money and be like 'I wanted to spend $5000 on books, so here's, you know, like 2. Two thousand. And then take the three."
I don't even know what that means!!!
Then he went back to the Denver issue, and then jumped to our light rail system. Called himself a 'commerce junkie'...
"I'm there before the FBI. In my day I knew more Arabs than they have hairs on their heads. I test the light rails. I'll go to a city JUST FOR the subways. I'm going to go buy Planes, Trains, and Automobiles tonight after work, watch it, then do the opposite. I hate all three. I don't consider subways trains, because they're completely independent. They're in my world, down with the rats and spiders. I like the air. It's pretty bad really. Terrible pollution. Like Denver."
What the fuck??!!
Then he asked if I was a smoker. I said no, but I have friends that do. He said...
"Here's a sure fire way to get 'em to quit. Take a cigarette, tear off the filter and roll out the tobacco. Have them hold it, light the paper, and tell them to smell it. Oooff! It'll burn their nose, but they've already quit in their mind. There's chemicals in the paper. Common misconception is that you're quitting the tobacco. Truth is that you're quitting all three. Y'know, the paper, the tobacco, and um, um, oh yeah, the filter."
He then drew what looked like a telescope.
"You see, it's kinda like a looking glass that you use to spy on people, but it's a cigarette. The tripod is the chemical paper, the tobacco, and the filter. Get rid of one and it'll fall over but you can still use it to spy. You gotta take all three out to kill it, then they've really quit. Here's your receipt, and thanks for calling."
And like that (insert poof noise here), he's gone.
M's car worked fine so she took of to get belted and shoed, I went upstairs to have a glass of wine.
Steve and Molly showed up about 5 minutes later, and the game was on. We had told Steve that I was cooking dinner at my place for the four of us. SURPRISE!! We had dress clothes for him and Molly, and we're going to Ruth's Chris Steak House. Off we go.
The snow drifts outside were so big that Steve and I picked up our ladies out of the cab and carried them through the snow to the door. Necessary, but also kinda romantic. SURPRISE!! We had another 7 people waiting for Steve there! He had no idea, and it was wonderful. We all had steaks, I split some crab cakes with Steve, and el vino did flow. Remy XP and creme brulee for dessert, and it's a belly-pattin' success.
Off to Mac's for more surprises...
(Quammunist note: I'm listening to the "10,000 days" album by Tool. That band is so beyond incredible, and this album is frighteningly beautiful and dark at the same time. Great to read and write to)
We get to Mac's and errry-one's thurr. Tommy "Smiles" DeQuattro and his wife, Dave and Jess, Garrett, Nick, Drewbie...like I said, errry-one. Even Steve's hot cousin Allison and Diane from New York showed their woppy asses. I love them and need to kick it with people from NY more...the attitude is much more my style. I even got to start a fight about Long Island vs. Rhode Island and Kennedy HS vs. Meppam HS!!
It was also Derek's birthday, and they picked Mac's too so no one would have to choose between the two parties. I love those boys. Downtown Craig Brown is my kind of peeps. Happy Birthday, D!
Those who couldn't make it called (except for fucking Pauly), and Grand Marinier was drink-drank-drunk. After a pep talk over a bathroom stall door, I yell for everyone to get together in back for a birthday photo. I know you're 6'7", but for this picture I need you and Molly in front.
SURPRISE!! He got down on one knee and popped the question like a frat kid pops a collar. She started crying and blurted out a "YES!!" and everyone cheered. Except Suzy, who missed it and them yelled at me for not telling her. I DIDN'T EVEN TELL M!!!
Shots, shots, afterbar. M insists she still loves me even though we were all types of loud until sun up, and Dave brought a cokehead over. Ass. No cocaine in BQ's casa, EVER. Sorry kids, I just don't roll that way.
Molly was 3 ½ hours late to work, but her boss is a woman so all was forgiven when she saw the rock.
I got to be hung over as hell today, but I'm smiling about the secrets I kept and the way it all got pulled off.
Damn it feels good to be a Quammunist.
Focker out.
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