Pre Grammy Gobbledygook

Posted on February 14th, 2007 by Jeremy.
Categories: Personal.

Pre - Grammy’s

The days preceding the Grammy’s seemed to mock me with the rapidity in which they started and ended.

I had hung out with Jax and the Court on Friday night, making the mistake of seeing the dreadful romantic comedy “Because I said so”. This disastrous piece of celluloid moved from mediocre to maddingly bad with the grace of Al Gore dancing…well..anything. Plot holes in which Optimus Prime could easily move through, and simulated elderly sex were more than a few reasons why I found myself making the face of someone who drank 5 month old milk.

The upside was that Jax continued to make me laugh with irreverent jokes “mole man is hot!” and the 20 something behind me that seemed to be talking in my ear at the same decibel level as Barry White (it was peculiar to say the least) that brought what could very well have been the worst film to a somewhat sustainable “eh”.

Saturday I woke up at 6:15 in the a.m. and went to a swimming class… not entirely sure why I did, but I did, and of course I had my butt handed to me as I watched a 95 year old grandma lap me multiple times…doing the backstroke.

It was somewhat depressing to be the last guy on and off the wall. But after an hour of uninterrupted swimming, no goggles, and continually wondering if I was moving in the water at all despite my every rubbering of the arms and legs, I didn’t care. I just wanted the time to be up without someone having to give me mouth to mouth due to exhaustion and drowning.

But it WAS a heckuva a workout, that much is true (I imagine that’s what one slave said to another when they were building the pyramids “It’s hot, the bricks are heavy but Heckuva workout” *cue crack of the whip*)

I wobbled home after that, waiting until 10 am sharp to wake El Penguino (clap clap) up and get him ready to go get haircuts and our usual Saturday trip to the comic store.

Hair was clipped, comics were bought and gabbed about and El and I decided that we needed some nourishment which inevitably led us to the Holy of Holies - Burger King.

El is at that age, one in which I have been at for most of my life, that looks for quantity and not quality.

“What do you want?” I inquired

“Whatever is the biggest” he replied

That would be the quadruple stacker. Four pieces of meat and cheese topped with bacon (as if you could taste anything but cholesterol death). El eyed me in his ever increasing bids for Alpha Maledom as if to say “what are you going to eat dirty hippie, a salad? Hahah”

“I’ll have the same” I said, eyes steeled and unflinching as I matched the young pups stare. We’ll see who the Alpha Male is pal!

I dived into my cube of muerte and my body immediately began to cuss at me like an Italian being cut off on the interstate. Like a Union strike I could feel my body starting to shut down. Workers were leaving the extremities and I’d be lucky to make it home before my body dropped into an unearthly meat coma.

El happily chomped away feeling none of the effects of a ton of dead flesh that we were ingesting.

I played it stoically enough.

“Man I’m tired from all that working out I did this morning” my foot to the accelerating praying that Jesus would make it back quickly before my eyes closed and I wrecked my Saturn into the sidewall of the 405.

I made it back and dropped to my bed for about a half hour before peace negotiations between me and my body came to a compromise and I was up dragging my body, which now felt like the meat I had eaten earlier, to the Valley to help the Geekmeister bounce some script ideas around.

That went well and I rushed from his house to the Men’s Wherehouse to TRY and find something that would be suitable to wear to the Grammy’s.

What to wear, what to wear? I bobbed and weaved through the aisles knowing I looked completely out of place.

I could very well just put on camouflage pants and a tank top if I wanted to. It was the Grammy’s and “fashion” was a subjective term at best.

But M2’s words kept resonating in my head “Buy something nice, this doesn’t happen everyday”…it wasn’t until later I wondered if she meant going to Grammy’s or going out with a pretty girl. Hmmm.

Jose was his name, and selling me crap was his game. I presented the problem like a caveman would to a British socialite “Me…Jeremy…go…Grammy’s?”

He understood through the grunts and bizarre gesticulations that I needed help and began a dizzying display of measuring and pulling of clothes from racks placing them out for me to see and admonishing me as my eyes would drift toward solid black.

“You should choose the pink one.” He almost sounded like Scarface.

“You should choo the pin one man.”

“I’ve never worn Pink in my life” I said, wondering why I was feeling self conscious about not wearing pink. I mean, men just. DON’T. WEAR. PINK.

“trus me. De gurls…de will luv you man”

I put it on and I have to admit, it was different…but in a good way. I couldn’t trust Jose fully so I grabbed some unsuspecting lady who was trying to placate her large husband as an unbiased opinion on the matter.

“What do you think of this?”

She looked me up and down….did she just wink at me?

“You look good”.

Ew

So, I bought my wares. It totaled far more than I would have hoped, but when was the next time I’d go to the Grammy’s (whenever it is you are durn sure I’m wearing the same suit!)? Or as I’m so pointedly reminding myself every two minutes, when was the next time I’d go out in public with a beautiful lass?

I came home to a full house. M2’s nephew was in town so the entire Shintani clan was over for a night of barbecue, wrestling, watching a

I passed out somewhere around midnight and barely woke to go to church and watch a wide eyed choir of African children sing gospel songs that moved me beyond words that can be written. I went home and washed and vacuumed the car (believe me…it was bad), and left to pick up my date for the evening.

To Be Continued…

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