I know this might shock some of you, but I lead a pretty quite life. Needle drugs on the weekends only, and I always kick the hookers out by 9:30. So the events of this past weekend are notable for a number of reasons. Although now that I am sitting down to write the story I realize they are mostly notable for other people. Right.
So T-Bone has this little brother. His name is Nick, and as I mentioned last week, he is here in Seattle to see his sister and to DATE OLDER WOMEN HE MEETS IN BARS IN NEW YORK CITY. That is how he rolls. A typical Nickless weekend for me and my friends might include a night out a a crazy club like Dad Watson’s, and maybe a movie. But definitely a matinee, because $10? For a movie? Do I look like a Rockefeller to you? Only when I forget to shave. Anyway, life sans Nick is pretty quiet.
And then he came to town. The following is an accurate rendition of three days with Nick.
Day One: The Calm Before the…Not Calmness
Everything started off pretty normally with T-Bone throwing a little party. Nothing got out of hand, and the only disappointing part of the evening was that Nick’s hot older lady couldn’t come because she had to work late. She is a NURSE people. I am not kidding. It was a good night, and we all went home completely unaware of what as to come.
Day Two: Oh Shit.
I believe I mentioned before that Nick is a little accident prone. I am pretty sure that at some point in his past there was an incident involving him, a car, and FIRE. I know he has broken numerous bones, gets stitches like they are going out of style, and is referred to as Norm at his local emergency room. So it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that Nick would be present for the awful moment—the moment that T-Bone’s lovely new car got smashed.
Oh the sadness. Oh the anger when there was some confusion as to whether or not Francisco had insurance.
No one was seriously hurt, which is obviously the important thing, but WTF? It was a bad day. I’m sorry lady.
Day Three: Life Should Always Be Like This
It was a good thing then, that Sunday turned out a little better. Sunday we went to a Sonics game. For free! We got to park in the VIP lot, for obvious reasons. But that is not all. We don’t just go to a Sonics game. That is so passe.
Nick, in addition to meeting hot women and narrowly avoiding death, also makes friends with everyone he meets. Including T-Bone’s boss’s husband, who so VERY VERY kindly hooked us up with tickets, AND arranged for Nick to attempt a half-court shot worth $10k in Lazy-Boy furniture. Ha! What a hilarious prize! Does anyone else think that is a hilarious prize?
So about 8 minutes into the game, an affable young man in khaki pants walks up to us and says, ‘Excuse me, Nick? Please come with me’, and off Nick went to be ‘prepped’. And then this happened:
Look how small he looks next to Squatch! (Is anyone else mildly disturbed by the word ‘Squatch’?)
Sadly Nick did not with the chance to buy the most expensive barcalounger ever made. But the fun wasn’t over! We realized at some point that the lovely people in front of us were none other than the family of Luke Ridnour! Luke and I go way back, and I was wearing a shirt I had made just for that evening:
I know it sort of seems like a euphemism for something dirty, but it’s not. I honestly sold him milk once, when I worked at the UofO Bookstore. I thought that occasion deserved to be commemorated in some way.
And this may or may not be Luke Ridnour’s dad. For the sake of the narrative, lets say it is.
So my first Sonics game kicked an awful lot of ass. But maybe not quite as much as Nick’s first Sonics game, which is why 2007 is not the year of Kim.
Alas, Nick has gone home now. Life is boring once again. Until next time, friend. Seattle can use a little spice now and again, and clearly you are just the guy to bring it.