I don't think Christmas would be the same without its signature stench of elf farts (equal parts cinnamon, ginger and Santa semen) that seem to sneak into your nostrils at the turn of every crook or the waxy smiles brighter and wider than the moon that wane from even the most bitter of waitresses' faces. Sure, they're not happy to be serving you food when they could be home molesting their children or eating turkey, but they'll still serve you a decent meal promptly; smiles on the house. You, consumer of my literary filth, needn't worry further. This holiday season was in no way any different. To pull from my title, this is my juncture in re-cap:
I drove down to Tennessee last Monday, only to return on Wednesday. It was wet. It was rainy. The police officer damaged my laptop. Pressing on...
Joe* played the innocent messenger between enemy lines. Normally I wouldn't imagine walking through a war to be very entertaining, but he wouldn't have put on his combat boots otherwise. Maybe I've found the cure to future boredom. Does anyone have a war I can step into? Oh, well. Expecting my life to be anything less than amazingly awkward would be like betting my adoption on the Angels winning the penant... and we've all seen Angels In the Outfield.
People keep calling me looking for Randall? Within the past 5 days, I've gotten 6 phonecalls asking me where he ran off to. I guess he's been "missing", but he's checked his myspace. At least he's not dead, I guess. That's good, right?
Sometime in late November was the Guns 'n Roses show at the Q. Yuck, what sort of name is that for an arena? It sounds more like a gay bar:
Gregory: "Hey, girlfriends! Let's go get cosmos at the Q!"
Erique: "Ew, guh-ross! I'm getting spritzers with Jerry at Packers."
Gregory (taking his time machine back to 5th grade): "Ugh, whatever." ::fingers form large W::
But yeah, I hung out with Axl Rose, Sebastian Bach and the dudes from Eagles of Death Metal (aka Queens of the Stone Age [big thanks to them for giving me backstage and FLYING ME OUT TO LA FOR NEW YEAR'S]). Axl ended up calling me an asshole because I asked where Slash was, wholly aware of the painful lawsuit that had been going on between the two of them since the 90's. The biggest asshole in the entirety of the human race called ME an asshole. I'm honored. Supposedly I got naked in the back of the tour bus, but I don't remember this happening.
Paul's son is staying with us for Christmas. He's 10. It's so weird to have a child in my life, especially one who's around the same age as my little brother. Death is a weird thing.
As if there were any doubts in my mind about death being weird, Nate's death only reminds me that, if anything, it's even more of a weird subject than imagination could have ever schooled me on. Eight months later, it still hasn't settled. Wow. It's been eight months already. Some nights, I'll be in bed and he'll be with me. And he'll do that weird thing where he twists the excess skin on my hips while he sings me to sleep. It's beginning to frighten me how vivid it is. I found my old landline phone from 2 years ago in my basement the other day. There were four messages in a row from you on my answering machine:
#2: "This is the offices of Mr. Nathan P. Miller. We're calling in regards to the bruncheon you'd requested for tomorrow. We're just calling to confirm. Please give us a call back when you get this. THEENKS!"
#3: "You made me lovvvvveee you, I didn't wanna do it... I didn't wanna do it..." etc, etc.
#4: "Vanessa, it's Nate. I smell a Freaks and Geeks marathon today? That was a question. Uh, give... uh, give me a call back. Mmmm, bye."
I make $40 an hour... Haha, I win.
The Godfather of Soul passed away yesterday. Yeah, I cried. But through the tears, my seed of a theory blossomed. Are you guys ready for this? Now, I'm going to mix-up the meat and potatoes of Christianity a bit, so if you're a fundamentalist, go sit at the kid's table for the remainder of dinner. Okay, so what if the Holy Trinity (Father, Son, Holy Ghost) wasn't a TRI-nity at all? What if it was a Holy QUAD-ity?! I'm talkin' the Father, the Son, the Holy Spirit AND the Godfather of Soul?! What if Jimmy B's just livin' the prophecy? Immediately I dried my eyes. Why should I cry if he's just doin' his thing? (and James Brown 'did his thing' pretty damn tastily) I remember when Nate and the Boys would quote the James Brown eBaums world thing. Gosh, best summer of my life.