(I don't know what that title means, either. Sometimes the words, they just come. And I don't stop them, especially if they make me giggle.
I do a lot of giggling over here.)
(Also? I know somewhere on my computer I have better photos of David, but I'm too lazy to search for them.) -- Photo updated August 28. Not a very flattering photo of me, and David doesn't have that mullet anymore, and I guess I've posted this photo before, but look at these two guys. I would love to go on a road trip with them (as long as I can drive) to somewhere far. I have a feeling we would all bust our guts laughing.
OK, so why the all Dave, all the time entry tonight? I don't know. I was just thinking nice thoughts about him, and hey, here's a forum to let some of those nice thoughts out into the world.
I'm sure I've mentioned that Dave is my "old boss." Yes, he hired me at Rizzoli (he doesn't know, I was a tad bit buzzed when I filled out my application. Also, the Candadian woman and the tall snooty blond running the store that day almost intimidated me out of dropping it off, but the beer helped. Turned out the Canadian lady - French Canadian - was fucking crazy; the tall blond has not one iota of snoot in her and is quite possibly one of the nicest people you will ever meet; see how wrong first impressions can be? Especially when you're drunk?), and for most of the years while I worked with him, I just thought of him as "David, My Boss." I didn't know very about him (I knew he was from Indiana, and that he rode his bike a lot. I knew he was an actor, and that he liked Frank Zappa, and Captain Beefheart. I knew he wrote a terrible [sorry, David] short story called "Soapy Boobs." I knew he liked leather pants, pirate shirts, cowboy boots, and dog collars [and I wished I didn't know that last part]).
I did not know, for a long time, too long, unfortunately, what a sweetheart he is. I didn't know how good he is at neck rubs when you have a headache - the guy has magic hands. His wife is one lucky lady. I didn't know he could keep a killer secret. I didn't know how talented he is as an actor. I didn't know I could not live without a hug from him at least every seven or eight days.
Well, I probably could live without, but boy, let's not try, OK?
Hello?
Although I sincerely appreciate the complimentary tone of this entry, and I don't wish to revoke Irene's poetic license entirely, I would like to set the record straight on a few items.
ReplyDelete1. Never in my whole life have I sported a mullet. In the poor photograph you see posted, my hair is just as long on top as it was in the back. Mullets are one of the many reasons I left Indiana.
2. I do not have a penchant for dog collars and have never worn one. I did wear a choker once on Halloween, but I think that would hardly qualify me as the fetishist that Irene imagines me to be in the kinky recesses of her secret teenage fantasy life.
That being said, I wouldn't trade Irene's friendship for anything; I would hire her again in a heartbeat (if I were in any position of power), and I would still hug her frequently as an "up yours" to the corporate mentally that believes your co-workers can't be your friends, too.
Cazart,
David E. Frank
There was a different photo attached to this post, and in that photo, your hair was definitely doing some kind of tighter curl on top thing than it normally does, which caused that "mullet"-type effect. Not your fault, and I blame it on the humidity.
ReplyDeleteAnd... unless you're wearing a motorcycle cop uniform (including the moustache), and even then it would be iffy, there will be no revocation of my poetic license, which I have been carrying since at least the seventh grade, when I started writing notes to boys, and was able to discern, based on their reaction, which boys were worth writing to.
I swear to GOD I saw you wearing a dog collar once, and it was not Halloween or Mardis Gras or on stage. Now, it could've been in a dream...
That's for being a good sport!