The point is like a chick who drowns her sorrows in a whole pint of ice cream, I will cook a good meal when life's tribulations become tiresome. I like to let stuff roll off and the best way to do that is to take the attention away from whatever shitty situation I need to get away from.
I didn't make the top ten of the moviehatch.com competition. Bummer dude. It kind of pissed me off because "Taste" is clearly much better than "Attack of the Zombie Fish", "Loser Makes A Million" or some other movie pitch on there that will no doubt end up getting made and starring Seth Green.
I'm not here to bitch though. It is cool that I'm even competing in pitch competitions and I recognize that. There will be many, many more competitions and many, many, many more rejections. Regardless of the stated rejection I decided to turn it into something really cool. So I went to the grocery store to make a bomb meal. I purchased two whole dungeness crabs and a fresh bageutte for garlic bread. I also picked up a case Pabst's Blue Ribbon beer and a pint of Jim Beam. All the ingredients would be necessary.
Nothing takes care of your troubles and worries like the light, tender and succulent meat of a big ass crab. My roommate and I feasted like kings. As I tore away at this beautiful little creature's legs, crunching, munching and then tossing, I thought to myself "it's not a rough life. Could be much worse than this."
I smiled, pounded my beer and got up to grab another.
The crab offered a feeling of elation that could not be ignored by either of us. My roommate and I began to reminisce on some of the good ole days. That made me even more excited.
He reminded me of the time when I was in high school and I would torture our trainer because he had a weak sense of humor. I used to call him "Drewsky Poosky" and for some reason he just didn't like it. After swearing I would never call him that again I did about 10 minutes later. He chased me out of the trainer's room, out of the gym and into the parking lot with his tape scissors. He was screaming like a Banshee saying something like "I'm going to cut off your nose!" and "Die!". I begged him to stop because he had just cut the tape off my ankle and if I twisted it while he was chasing me then just have to spend more time in the trainer's room. My logic won out as it usually does but I think Drewsky Poosky might have given up athletic training after that.
There was pretty much constant laughter through the evening and once I got 12 beers deep I realized that only a couple hours had passed and it was still very early in the evening.
"We gotta go out!" I exclaimed to my cohorts. After careful deliberation of which drinking establishment we would grace, we came to a decision and made haste off into the night. The walk there was not exactly easy. Either the side walk was in dire need of repair or I was just drunk, honestly I believe it was a little of both.
The particular bar was just out of reach of the heinous hipsters and to grimey for Hollywood douche bags. You will occasionally see somebody in there that makes you say "Hey I totally know that person from somewhere." I once saw Donna from that 70's show in there and fell in love. This is an important fact because before I get into this it must be established that I use the term "falling in love" or "dream girl" very, very loosely. I'll fall in love five or six times a day on average. That's just how I roll.
The place was packed and as usual it was an interesting mix of interesting looking people. I shuffled through the mix to find a spot at the bar to order a round. Trying to order a drink at a crowded bar is like trying to bend a spoon with your mind. You have to have a "there is no spoon" approach to get a beer.
I surveyed the area while I waited. There was quite a bit of potential. I looked around for a good standing spot. In such cramped quarters location is crucial. You could bump into a beautiful, well-read blonde that ends up being the girl of your dreams or you could get stuck next to a bunch of guys wearing Affliction shirts and drinking Jager Bombs.
I'm still holding out for my beautiful, well-read blonde but I did bump into somebody. Oh the horror that would follow after I got the beers and started walking back to the table.
I handed my buddy his drink then out of the corner of my eye I pick up a very tall brunette walking past me. She walked just out of my peripheral vision before I could get a decent look at her figure. In a very slurred, slow manner I leaned over to my roommate and said...
Me: Love of my life.
Rm: Dude, that's not a chick.
Me: Scuse me?
Rm: That's a dude, dude.
Me: There's no way.
Rm: No it's definitely a guy. In fact I saw him walking this way as you were coming back from the bar and I was hoping you were going to say something like that.
Me: It's an honest mistake. It could happen to anyone. I didn't get a good look!
Rm: No that doesn't just happen to anyone. I don't think many people just accidently call a tranny the love of their life.
I look over to get a better look and see a very clear and robust Adam's apple on his throat, a Mel Gibsonish jaw line and sunken pirate ship eyes. I gagged for a minute but was too proud to show weakness.
Me: I agree that is a man but I think you know I use "love of my life" pretty loosely.
Rm: You might say a little too loosely.
I talked to this cute girl by the darts for a little while but then she turned out to be a lesbian. I was frustrated and tired of the crowd so we left. As far as I can remember it was a long walk back to the apartment. My associates were continually harping on my tranny blunder. I was just starting to get flat-out peeved off.
(Apologies for using the word peeved in such close proximity to tranny.)
The next thing I knew I was in the back seat of a car without any shoes on but thankfully, pants were on. Apparently it was decided to go to Tommy Burger down the street. I didn't know we were at a Tommy Burger and once I realized that's where I was I wanted some Tommy Burger. Without closely examining how close the car was next to me I opened the door and hit the car next to me with a deafening thud.
I froze. I knew that I had now created a situation I must somehow manage to get out of. I saw the angered face of the Latino man I hit and I knew I needed to proceed with caution. I knew it was best to be delicate.
"Hey buddy move your car! You're parked to close for me to get out." I exclaimed loudly. I realize now how that could of been mistaken for yelling at the guy but his windows were rolled up and it was the best way for him to hear me.
"What the fuck is your problem?" he says not surprisingly but says in perfect english which I found surprising.
He opens his door and tries to get out but can't because we are parked so close together. It's now a stand off. Either he shuts his door and let's me out or I back down and shut my door letting him out. I won't concede and inch to anybody no matter the situation.
"Just shut your door and I can get out. I think it's fine." I say beginning the smooth over process.
"No you shut your door dude." he says with his girlfriend in the passenger seat yelling at him.
"Noooo you shut your door dude." I answer back maintaining my control of the situation and dominance over this close parker.
"Fine, I'll shut my door." He shuts his door and waits for me to get out. Then he gets out and walks around to the front of the door.
I get out of the car and step out into parking lot in bare feet. Side note: I was never able to figure out why I was without socks or Chucks. Never figured that one out.
I lean over to closely examine if there was any damage. I rub the side of his car like you would rub the belly of a pregnant lady and tell him it's going to be all right. His girlfriend starts yelling at him louder.
"Hey man you are going to have to give me your information or something" he says in the tone of a whipped dog.
"Information?! Information?! I don't even have shoes let alone information!" I said waving my arms to emphasize.
The Latino guy slumped his shoulders and hung his head in defeat.
I leaned down next to the dent in question as to not make a scene and said "this will buff right out. No biggie." In my mind the situation had been resolved and I was getting back into the car to eat my chili cheese burger. My friend, the good soul that he is, gives the Latino guy his number. I was upset that after my smoothing over he would undo it by giving him his number. It actually was the cherry on top because he gave him his work's fax number.
I ate my chili cheese burger and it didn't even bother me anymore that I had hit on a tranny. The moviehatch competition was light years out of my mind. Thanksgiving was on my mind though. I love Thanksgiving. Great food with great people (even if you only see them for a couple days out of the year). This Thanksgiving I'm thankful for more than I have room to write about in this blog.
Times are kind of bleak right now. There is a fixation on "The End Times" and the fascination our country has with epic doom confuses me. Our campaign and war cry of "Hope" to get Bush out of the office has been met with more of the same. It would be easy to fall victim to the black cloud of burden that hangs over almost every American to some degree. I won't though because I have my own war cry. I have my own tried and true testament that allows me to brave the storm through the roughest of seas. It's simple but effective and it will never let you down.
Live life, have fun.
With Love & Respect Always,
Mike James
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