06.21.2002 - 06.23.2002 - Now I Try To Be Amused

If my visit to Livermore were like most trips, I would have spent my time glued to the sofa cruising the digital cable with The Moms before I decided I could no longer take it and rushed right back to the comfort of my own apartment. This time, however, I took it upon myself to occasionally leave the house. I felt like I was in high school again, except now, I have a car and I know what boobies feel like.

After I celebrated Haircut Friday, I jumped in Tha Van Of Love and motored south on I-5, stopping once at an outlet mall to prevent a messy bladder explosion and check out prices on personal CD players. Once I crossed the threshold to the house, I deposited my belongings in the center of the living room and promptly left to go out to dinner with The Moms. For some reason, we like to pretend we have money when I visit when we should enjoy four star dinners made from the finest in Top Ramen cuisine to avoid being busted directly after the first of every month. Avoiding reality is nice sometimes, as it provides me with the occasional meal or pair of shoes.

Back home, I called Mr. Bestfriendinthewholewideworld to see if he knew of any goings on in our hometown. He, unlike me, actually still has friends that still live in Livermore and, shock and horror, still associates with them. Most everyone I still care to talk to has left town, hence the aforementioned remote jockeying that dominates most of my visits to Momsville. He knew of a party and told me he'd be by with one of his brother's friends to pick me up.

I should have known then that the proper thing to do was decline, flop on the couch, shove my hand down my pants and see what the fifty HBOs were showing. Foolishly, I instead hopped in the car and went with the two gentlemen to buy some liquor and head to the fiesta.

As soon as I walked into the house, I felt minutes away from being able to collect a Social Security check. The joint was filled with fresh high school graduates or people who might not have made it that far. Hanging around with a bunch of high school jocks who enjoy drinking beer stolen from their parents' refrigerators and high fiving each other after they've discovered their mutual love for Nelly is no longer my cup of tea, and no amount of underage girls in tube tops can change that.

I created some entertainment for myself by telling people that Mr. Bestfriendinthewholewideworld and I were gay lovers and we had just celebrated our first anniversary. One member of the Tube Top Team thought I was going to tussle with her because she was moving in on my man. That would have been entertainment.

Tired of watching the little brothers of guys with whom I played baseball get housed while beginning and ending every sentence with the word "dude," I convinced Mr. Bestfriendinthewholewideworld it was time to go. Us old folks need our sleep.

The next morning, The Moms was supposed to have a driving lesson. When she and my father were married, my father did all the driving. After they split, it took her a long time to get back behind the wheel. Five years later, she still hasn't driven on the freeway and her therapist thinks it's about time she did.

When I woke up, I planned on having the house to myself for an hour or so to sit in silence and read. The smell of bacon confused me, and I had to wonder if my sunburn, which is still around after a week, could cause hallucination. She chickened out on the driving lesson. Although this frustrated me a little bit, it did free up the day. Since she hasn't been up to Davis since my freshman year, I thought it might be nice to bring her up and show her some of the things I talk about. She now knows how impossible it is to move after experiencing the all-you-can-eat sushi buffet and she knows the pleasure of having hot balls in her mouth.

That joke and tapioca drinks will never get old. Ne-ver.

On the way home, we stopped at yet another outlet mall so I could buy myself some new sandals. While shopping at the Thrift Store Outlet a few weeks ago, both of the sandals I was wearing broke at precisely the same time. Since then, I've been looking for a suitable replacement. While I looked for sandals, The Moms shopped next door at the Dress Barn WOMAN store.

As long as I can remember, The Moms has always called her section of the department store the "Fat Ladies' Section," and as such, any plus size store is the "Fat Ladies' Store." I've always been puzzled as to why the normal size store is just Dress Barn while the plus size version is Dress Barn WOMAN. Are ladies below size twelve not really women? Are cross dressers more petite than most women? I want answers.

Anyway, The Moms grabbed me, told me there was someone who wanted ot see me and dragged me to the register where I saw one of my friends from my early high school days making change. I'm awkward around ninety percent of all people I know, but I reach a whole other level of awkwardness when I'm forced to say howdy to someone I haven't seen or heard from in six years while that person is working. I felt like I was intruding, so the conversation only lasted a few seconds before I said "it was nice seeing you" and ran back to the car.

That night, I went over to Mr. Bestfriendinthewholewideworld's Parents' house so I could pretend like I was living in 1997 one more time. The only real difference was some new furniture and that we could sit on the couch and drink.

Or try to drink.

I confirmed the fact that I will never ever become a hip hop superstar: I don't like the taste of Courvosier.

We've been threatening to drink this bottle of Courvosier for about a month and we finally made good on our threat with poor results. We each had a tiny glass before recorking it and shoving it back in the cabinet. Damn. Me and P. Diddy was gonna be tight, yo.

After that mess, we slipped into the hot tub that I haven't enjoyed since 1999. I was housesitting for the family at the time, and after I got out of the tub, I sat on the couch, nude of course, watching The Real World when I heard the front door open. Unbeknownst to me, Mr. Bestfriendinthewholewideworld gave his key to one of his football buddies and told him to use the place as he wished. Following the best of gay porn plots, the entirety of the high school varsity football team walked in on me, nude to the world. I casually stood up and told the first one through that they could wait outside for a minute or they could watch a naked fat man bend over.

They thought I was a-jerkin' it, when, ironically, this is one of about five moments that year when I wasn't actually masturbating.

Back to present day, Mr. Bestfriendinthewholewideworld and I sat in the tub, relaxing and waiting for another friend to show up. The reason I came home this weekend was to attend a big going away barbeque for a friend who is moving to Florida. When that friend showed up to Mr. Bestfriendinthewholewideworlde's house, he told us he hadn't made any such plans for a barbeque. Thankfully, he decided to have a smallish going away barbeque, because, hell, why not? Good friends and good food.

And no Courvosier.

That barbeque was the focus of my Sunday, and it was a good time. I went over to his parents' huge house and played with his two awesome pugs for probably the last time. When I left, I said, "Drive safely. Take care of yourself in Florida. We'll always have 'smoke a cock, Duane."

See, we used to work together and we had an idiot manager. Whenever he asked us to do something, we started mumbling under out breath "smoke a cock, Duane." We formed a bond because of it and we've been better friends ever since. I'll miss his tales of what it's like to genuinely not give a fuck about what anyone thinks. Always a good laugh.

After I left the festivities, I stopped by The Moms' house to pick up my stuff and say goodbye. This was an enjoyable visit home. I got to spend some time with The Moms, I ate actual food on more than one occasion and I got to spend time with good friends. I'm sure the next time I'm home I'll do little more than watch Trading Spaces with Mom, and while it's nice to see her, I'll probably secretly wish I'm off somewhere discovering my distaste for klassy alcohol or reminiscing with friends.

-- Jeffy