Why did I get screamed at

Man I was down at Lucky Go getting the wrong printer cable for Molly and when I was out in the parking lot with my cheap little plastic bag this forty five year-old gutty dude with real flat wet combed hair got out of his car (a pretty bad old Nissan that a man his age should be beyond) and started over at me. He kept patting down his hair and running his thumbs around the inside of his waistband, you know, and when he got like ten feet from me he had a pretty good lather on, just screaming that I was a son of a bitch. It gave me the feeling that I hadn't noticed him earlier when he drove by and he thought I had flipped him off (I had not just errantly done any flipping off that morning so that seems unlikely). Maybe he reasoned me for another dude who had done him over with some cash or parts. I just started to back away because I didn't have much anger at the time and when he advanced I actually ran fifteen feet. When I saw that he didn't chase after me I started to walk again. It was a pretty basic "weird scene," like might make sense if you were looking at two fairly sophisticated beetles in a terrarium but man was this guy coming off the whiskey or something. Or is it whisky? No wonder people who drink whiskey are always so mad, they're like WHAT THE HELL AM I DRINKING WHISKY OR WHISKEY and that just makes them drink more. This guy was like that, a man who would drink to excess because his beverage had an outmoded spelling distinction, and then yell at people by the cheap electrical parts store. That is the kind of guy who usually notices me in public.

Ray's Pedicure Routine.

So like Ray was all mincin' around dandy on the white carpet in his living room today while I was watching car races on the satellite, and that kind of ate at me after a while, so I was like "what's up with you making tiny little pleased steps and smiling. You look like Liberace doing the Don't Step On The Baby Ants Dance." Then the dude smiled directly at me and the rest went like this.

- + -

RAY: Dude, I just had the mother of all pedicures. This girl Xa Bi was rubbin’ on my doggies so hard and long, I don't mind tellin' you that I closed my eyes and thought about the act for like half an hour.

ME: Well that's fine I mean I hope you did not get a nasty old tumescence though.

RAY: Like hell I didn't! Why you think I go there?

ME: To have your feet cleaned and your nails trimmed and perhaps some calluses scraped, I don't know.

RAY: Don't get me wrong, they do that. But a big part of their service is the whole fantasy angle. It's like, "Wink, nudge, you are making me hot as the devil, and don't you know it, you sweet little mystical peach."

ME: I think if the chick knew you were thinking that she would jump back like that part in Back to the Future where Michael J. Fox plays a guitar note through Doc Brown's massive speaker.

RAY: Hell no, dogg. Those ladies know what it's all about. They're hella cuttin' it up in Vietnamese, all smilin', and sometimes I catch the other ladies in the shop lookin' over at me and smilin' and gigglin'. They know I know the deal, man of the world, all that. Plus, I ALWAYS tip well.

ME: Uh huh and can they actually see your wrong old tumescence.

RAY: Damn straight, man. It's cultural — you got to let it show, so they can know you're in on the deal and gettin' the most of it. I always wear these real light, loose linen pants to my pedicure, and I go commando, so they can watch me pitch the tent. Another sign of respect. It's like how a sommelier won't offer you certain bottles if he knows you ain't a real player.

ME: Do you always get the same girl.

RAY: No, they always give me the youngest one. It's kind of a form of old-school respect, since they know the youngest girl will work the hardest.

ME: Oh uh okay I see. And at the end is the girl like all gracious and chatty when you give her the tip.

RAY: See, that's another thing you don't understand about the Vietnamese. They are real shy and embarrassed when it comes to money changin' hands — it's almost shameful to them. Every time I hand my girl her tip, she blushes and just kind of looks down and away as she takes it. The older ladies always bust out in this big laugh and she runs back to the towel room. Every time, dude. It's their way.

ME: And how do you leave the place.

RAY: Oh, I get up and give everybody a big wave goodbye. They all laugh some more, because homeboy is so blissed. After that I strut out and get a taco or two next door.

ME: Man where did you even learn how to get a pedicure all in the know like that.

RAY: I read so many magazines, dude, it all kind of blends together. I wish I remembered, sorry, or I'd let you borrow it.

- + -

McDonald's vs Starbucks vs Ray vs Me

Dang it man but Ray just has so much faith in McDonald's it is ridiculous. Today it came out in the news that Mickey D's is gonna try to compete with Starbucks by havin' baristas and fancy coffee drinks and Ray was just all kinds of sure that was gonna put Starbucks outta business. It's lazy to side with the big-ass (well, bigger-ass) ruthless worldwide conglomerate and it shows no bag. Maybe that's how you make it in his investments and finances world but lazy don't fly with me.

RAY: Check it out, dude! McDonald’s is gonna wipe Starbucks off the map by havin’ baristas and fancy coffee drinks!

ME: Man that is baloney the Venn diagram of their customer bases looks like an eight

RAY: Say what you want. McDonald’s plays to win.

ME: Tell me what you like most about Starbucks I mean I know you get coffee there

RAY: The chicks who work there, dude! All tight black pants, smilin’, hell of took a shower lately...

ME: Now tell me what you remember about the McDonald’s worker chicks

RAY: They...they get these weird little purple blotches on their faces, but they don’t seem to come to a head. And...and they got those flappy bellies that the company makes them tuck into their pants. Bellies that could hang into a sink, but not stick out above a sink. Wait, hold on a minute, man—

ME: Plus think about it Ray if they can’t even repeat NUMBER THREE, DIET COKE how they gonna do with a double venti short tall nonfat mocha no foam cappuccino with two ice cubes and a half shot of sugarfree vanilla for Mackenzie who by the way is a skinny woman in Versace sunglasses and not a fat Irish man in an Aran cable sweater holding a Guinness

RAY: Well, they wouldn't offer all those options, first of all. You wouldn't be allowed to customize.

ME: In that case they ain't competin' with Starbucks then since Starbucks' whole model is that Starbucks is the ONLY place you can get your exact drink and your exact drink is a sacred event without which your day is ruined

RAY: That may be, but there are a lotta fringe people who ain't into complicated coffee drinks yet and Starbucks ain't got their business. McDonald's will get these customers.

ME: So my point about the Venn diagram holds up even on your side because McDonald's would not be taking any existing customers from Starbucks and in fact McDonald's will actually serve as a gateway to frou-frou coffee which will then lead frou-frou coffee converts to the greater options and hotter, bathed chicks of Starbucks

RAY: Jesus Christ, dude! How much in advance did you think about all this?! Enough, already!

ME: I don't have to think about things in advance to know what I think

RAY: Alright, alright. Maybe Starbucks will stay in business. You only all on about this 'cause your fiancée works there.

- - -

We cooled it from there, since I knew I was just gettin' steamed and gonna dis on my fellow, and all in all I knew it wasn't more than just cola wars. Let Starbucks and Mickey D's try to out-sell each other in hot brown narcotics and god but am I ashamed I even let myself get worked up for either side. Jesus Christ do I got to go on that week-long trip to the desert men sometimes need.

Doggs I Bought a Boat

Alright so I wasn't really going for this but I was walking along the bay piers this morning (I woke up at four o'clock again and needed to get away from the house before I freaked out) and I bought a boat. I am not a guy who has a boat but I guess we all got to come to terms with my having a boat now.

It's not a great boat but it's got a closed cabin and a sail (I think it actually has two sails) and some electronics that help you get saved in a storm. There's this main bed area inside the cabin and dammit I am such an idiot but I think I bought the boat because I imagined Molly and me having sex in the bed. Because no one could bug us way out on the sea. I actually thought that. I think I might have actually bought a boat based on the idea that nobody could interrupt my sex activities. Jesus did my family do a number on me. I have to be honest and say that at least one particular uncle never knocked on the bathroom door when I was doing a deuce at Christmas or Thanksgiving, he just opened it straight up. That guy basically ruined my life and my nervous system.

The boat is currently named CHEESEBURGER IN PARADISE but I have begun paperwork to get that changed. I'm hopin' to get it named something cool like DOCK DORK or SLIP TWIT. You can dis on that but in the end I have a boat and you don't, which is true.

Picking Out My Dudes

Man it is a childish thing but when you go to wear the pants with the stripe that shines you got to name your dudes in order. You got to choose your number one, then a couple to trot behind him. Why do we have to order our friends. I guess it's part of the intelligence of the ceremony design, makes us see where we stand at this juncture, who matters. But damn if it didn't do a raw one on me.

First of all, I always knew Ray would be my best man. I also always knew that my brother Michael ("Showbiz") couldn't even be counted on to be alive or paroled, and I never much felt connected with him besides. My mom always made us act like friends but it was a hell of raunch lie.

So I went in to ask Ray to be my best man. He had class and didn't act like he expected it, but when I popped the question he had me shut the office door. He busted out a hug on me and then poured us each a healthy blue label. Said he'd be honored, all that. I don't dunk tank much on extreme moments but it was cool and it was a thing. We took an extra one and he even talked for a bit real wise on how a woman can improve a man. I didn't know where he got any of that but it was polished and even sage in places.

After Ray I got in place groomsmen like Téodor, Lyle, Todd, Emeril, Spongebath, and Cornelius. I know that's kind of a big party but I been warmin' up to it. I mean how often do you get it on like this in life. How often do you even get to make your dudes support you. This structure seems decent enough as it is.

A crazy nut was out on the scene

Man it ain't like me to dogg up and call the human police on a falterin' human but damn if today didn't make that necessary.

So there I was sittin' on the roof with my new situation, which is a tiny deck the size of a picnic table where I can code and cool it on top of the pool house in the full sun. I can see all around, including the street out front. I been down to the street and it's pretty hard to see where I am up top, so it's safe enough. Branches are obscuring it etc.

So today I'm up there and alright truth be told I'm lookin' at corsets, kind of might be a thing I'm interested in specifically, and out of the corner of my eye I see this blotto dude wandering down the sidewalk. He's human, maybe three hundred and fifty pounds (hard to tell with them), wearin' jean shorts and a hoody and a big red backpack. He's got socks on, but he's carryin' his shoes, and he ain't too sure about where the sidewalk's gonna be next time he makes a move. He even tries to see if the street is better, but it's rush hour and it's not, so he kind of makes his way down the sidewalk halfway on lawns, halfway on the curb. Rough scene, and even though he has birthday party face it's pretty clear he might do up a box truck on the undersides. He might make an acid glance at the trans-axle, if you get my inexpensive business.

Lame as hell and all Pat-style I ring up the badges and they come whisk him off. I don't know why I did it, that was hell of gripe of me. I guess that since now I live on a nice block I got zero patience with fuck ups and streetards, I'm like "well screw him because this real estate is LEET!"

Ugh I don't like what I did but also I do. I don't go stumblin' blazed in somebody else's neighborhood, and if I did, you can bet with assurance they'd cool my ass off in a prison room. Fair's fair, and the nice game never got me nowhere. So long, blazed dude, and I totally hated seeing your crevice when your shorts fell to lows.

Hitched up to the Cash I.V.

Holy hell and high water does every person in the community come around with their hand out when your time comes to get hitched. On a regular day you might walk down the street and see six hundred normal people and they will not mean much to you; if you are about to get married, however, each of them will open their trench coat or sweater set as you pass by to reveal engraved save-the-date cards or meat upgrades on the catering menu or a non-terrible rental cummerbund that costs ten smacks more than the terrible ones with zebra stripes that come standard. Good God in his mighty chair why would I want to have a permanent engravement made of an invitation which sure as blazes won't ever be used again. Tradition can eat this fat one that I am about to jam out of my ass hole. You're damn right I made that into two words for emphasis. And yes I said that.

Alright don't get me wrong I am on a cloud since I shored my muster and made the commitment to Molly. But I been compilin' a list of all the damn stuff that needs to get paid for just to make this whole process be "socially official" or whatever and it is come to summer grapes. Check out all these damn costs and then consider that our wedding doesn't even have a job to pay for itself:

1. Engagement ring (yes I got to get a real one), probably like $4k

2. Airplane bottle of Jäger to get me dumb enough to "man up" and buy the right one: $3.65

3. Nice dinner for the evening when we got engaged: $113.74

4. Nice lunch the day after we got engaged: $45.29

5. Nice dinner the day after we got engaged (can't just go back to pork and beans so quick): $79.21

6. Special massage for her since this should be a happy week of her life: $80

7. Pedicure and manicure for same reason: $35

8. Meeting with a wedding planner: $0 (if God help me I consult with a motherf$r who tells me how to buy flowers from a flower store then just put the railroad spikes in my feet and do me in with a kickstand welded to a chain, I swear to God I'll tip you as a dying gesture).

9. A hat: ($23). I normally don't buy myself a hat but I was feeling kind of up on things and got a cool embroidered cap at the booth of this dude who was playing a Chapman Stick at the farmer's market. I now have a hat that says Troy Koller on the front, in Times New Roman. I will make sure that this is my only hat for at least five years.

10. Oh holy Christ and Jesus here we are at number ten and the coffee ain't even come to a boil yet

Damn I mean I kicked away a few bucks for this day since normally the bride's family chomps these fees but seein' as they all died four hundred years ago that ain't too likely. Sad to see it go; hope Showbiz can lay off the tweeters and mega-woofers a while. (He can't.)