What I Do
I had dinner last night with the area's most famous alleged armed robber. I brought the steaks and he cooked them over his little portable grill outside his hippie-fied earth berm dwelling while his hard working lawyer called thrice to gather facts and earn the 5 figures he will charge to free this most unlikely criminal of his most unlikely charge. Mr. BC awhile back gave me a bottle of Vodka hand delivered from Russia and this I also brought because the robbery happened in a liquor store and our friend of mistaken identity is understandably hesitant to enter such establishments until the case is resolved. The Vodka, brand Beluga, went down like reflected sunshine distilled from the idealized mountain spring. Or ice water that has never been pissed in, ever. That's what I'm going to say the next time I'm in a restaurant and asked if I want tap or bottled water. I would like the water that has certifiably never been pissed in I will say. I will notice that people ask me out to nicer restaurants with a diminishing frequency. What does that really fine Vodka taste like, ask me that. It tastes like liquid nothing, chilled. Perfect. How does it compare to a finer commercial vodka like Grey Goose? Try this. Eat seven spears of asparagus and wash it down with three black coffees. When you have to pee next, do it in a cup and then fill an eyedropper with the piss and measure three drops into a frosty cold shot of Beluga. Tell your guests it is Grey Goose.
I'm taking the rest of the day off just to celebrate surviving the unloading of a piece of furniture from a truck in which the driver was just a driver if he could get away with it (and until I slipped him a twenty he was going to get away with just being a driver). I knew I was in trouble when the guy said--there isn't any ramp. They had this chest of drawers in a cardboard box plus then surrounded by wood slats just like you see in the movies when cargo is unloaded onto the dock from a giant freighter. He said its not that heavy (but it was pretty heavy) and we would just slide it down to the ground from a distance that was bottom third of the crate at head level. I panicked briefly over the logistics and splinters of this not to mention pulverized toes and back gone out for good. Panic I think is always warranted but in this case just like many panic stricken moments not realized to their fullest portent(ial), a waste of time. Time is money but lately I don't spend much, charge much, or do much. At the restaurant when asked what type of water I want later someone will ask what I do. I'll say not fuckin much, what about you?
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