Pondering life with Old and Jeff. It sounds like a self-help book, or some silly sitcom that'll only last one season. In many ways, it's probably both of those. Actually, I doubt there will be any self-help, but I'm sure it'll be silly and probably won't last long.
I'm not quite sure how to start these things. In fact, I'm a little reluctant to blog in the first place. I mean, seriously, who proudly calls themselves a blogger? Not me, but I've already begun, so I might as well continue (Old, was this your idea or mine?).
It's 1:48 AM and I just dropped Old off. We went to Squeeze with some of my coworkers. We had originally planned on drinking some 40s, smoking a joint, and watching Goonies, but plans changed when Old couldn't find the Mickey's. Some St. Ides would have worked, but somehow they evaded him as well. So, we went to the bar instead.
I've been going out with this group from work for about a month now. It's a good group of folks; not your typical Portland breed. For those that aren't familiar with Portland, typical means black-rimmed glasses, tight pants bought from your local Goodwill outlet (not because they're cheap, but because they look more hip when they're old and used), well-groomed and managed hair that looks the same as mine (well, if I had hair) when I wake up in the morning, vegan, emo and indie pop listening, arsty-fartsies. Uh, maybe a little stereotypical, but not too far off (Old can vouch).
Anyway, back to my coworkers. They're good people. Most aren't from Portland, rather they have come here for the same reasons Old and I have: make new experiences, meet new people, grow, learn, live, etc. We've bonded at work because of the intense working conditions (more on that in another blog), and began going out drinking to cope with those same conditions (or at least that's my excuse). It's good times, and I thought Old should hang.
I'm a little disappointed we didn't smoke that joint and watch Goonies, but that can wait. Tonight we were Squeeze bound (quick sidenote for those in the "know": viva la squeeze box). First thing was first, though, when we got there: hit the jukebox. Actually, that was second, as we do like our beer and had to have a drink first. Nonetheless, music was a priority. We searched hard for some Bay Area rap, but none was to be found. Instead, we let Johnny Cash, the Talking Heads, Sublime, and Beck inspire us to drink (not that we needed any inspiration). I think we might have snuck a New Kids on the Block song in there also.
Old and I moved on to the back room of the bar, where most my coworkers were, or eventually ended up. There, he was introduced to everybody. I forget if it was me or Old who said, in error, that his name was Dustin. It was weird hearing people call him that. It has been some time since someone has referred to him by his nickname. Ha ha. However, it wasn't as weird as hearing my coworker, Adam, introduce himself as Chris.
As we played pool, listened to music, and caught Old up to speed on news from work, our level of intoxication grew. This is by no fault of my own, however. My supervisor's husband, Casey, kept buying me beer. And the speed at which he did so was pretty astonishing. It got to the point where I had to start pawning the beers off to Old. Seriously, I could not keep up with the guy, and because I was driving, I had to draw the line. Plus, it kept Old out of debt, as he surely would have spent a lot of money if he paid for as many beers as I passed along to him.
I think the highlight of the night was when, just after sneaking Old a third beer, he heard me comment about someone who said, "fo shizzle, my nizzle." Now, I'm not totally opposed to such speak, but for some reason it stressed me out, and I couldn't remain speechless about it. Luckily, though, I didn't remark too loudly, and only Old heard me. Strangely, this made it more funny, and Old began busting up. Well, it wasn't as much of a "bust up" as it was a choking on his beer, blowing it out his nose, and crying. It was pretty funny. Thinking about it now, however, what I said probably wasn't very funny or clever.
At this point in the evening, Old and I started talking about our days in Humboldt. For those that don't know, Humboldt State is a University we both went to. I was only there for two years, Old for all four. This specific trip down memory lane involved graffiti battles. We were trying to remember the name of a writer who battled Old for a good few months. If I remember correctly, the writer in question might have even exchanged death threats with Old. It was a heated battle, that caught the interest of many local writers. It ultimately ended when Old's unworthy opponent was unable to withstand the 337 soulisms that were unleashed at him. However, none of this was really discussed at the bar. All we were trying to do was remember the dude's name. I don't know if it was the beer, or because it's such a distant memory, but we could not remember it....then. When Old finally remembered, I had already dropped him off at home, and it was (is) 1:45 in the morning. He called my cellphone, which at 1:45 in the morning can be very annoying (if you've heard my ring tone, you know what I mean), to inform me his name was Evade. Instantly I was hit with an onrush of memories of Dave (yes, try it backwards and add an "e"). I remember he was from Orange County, and that stressed me out. I remember that he had a super-fine girlfriend, and that stressed me out. I remember that he had this little tag along homey, who definitely stressed me out. And I remembered that the dude just had no skills with spray paint, and that stressed me out. The guy was weak, and I wanted to fight his friend, if only because he wasn't hard but really tried to appear so.
Anyway, Old's call did, however, motivate me to write our first blog (ughh, I said it) entry. I probably could have picked better material to write about, but I have to go with what I've got. There was no pondering life, but we had a good hang with some good folks. I imagine that's what life should be about, right?. Whoa, now I'm pondering. Let's end it here.


Oldie said...

A valiant first effort, friend. Well...now that you're an official "Blogger", I think I'll be an asshole and rename this page "Pondering Life with Jeff." Have fun! Sucka...

porksy said...

Way to go guys. So, is it Adam or is it Chris????????

Slug said...

My brother, the beer-guzzling, smack-talking, stressed-out (?), Irish jester...I still have your Paula Abdul, NKotB, and yes...Milli Vanilli tapes that you conveniently hid in my ski jacket! They are here, in Colorado, waiting for a good groovin' next time you swing your Guinness-loving gut to the Rockies for a shady vist to Liks. And maybe, bring Old, as he needs to get in on this action, too. I promise that the car will start...