This Meal Subsidized by the Crazy Horse Too

So last night I came up to dinner to meet brother/Greggy and dad/Dick for dinner in Redondo beach (Dad wanted to be somewhere he could look at boats and water and nautical things like that). As I am riding w/ a sales guy in LA tomorrow and then leaving for a wedding on Friday, I requested to stay put in LA and work from home today, so I am presently sitting at my kitchen table under a fan in clothing that would in no way be work appropriate as it is 100 degrees in here. I suppose I could go somewhere else to work, but that would require putting on decent clothing and leaving my apt and I’m frankly much too lazy for that at present.

So here I am, sitting in my unmentionables and working off of two laptops cuz I can’t get my wireless in my work computer to work but need it to access the fantastic “deliverables” I’ve been creating and thinking, what is keeping me here? Why can’t I put on my swimmies and hit up the beach? I had to miss a tanning weekend last weekend and then will miss another this weekend and that is going to seriously put me behind on my color maintenance. Working from home as far as I’m concerned is a crock of shit. b/c you know that MTV will be on in the background (hey, it’s MUSIC television and I usually “rock out”** to my iPod at work anyway), you know that at some point I’ll need some sort of refreshment that can only be found at a place other than my apartment, you know that I’ll decide I must multi-task and throw some laundry in, you know that lunch will be at the beach, etc. But I swear, I’m doing my best, I really am. You know, my dad tried to convince me to play hooky and hit up the beach w/ them today. He said he’d write my boss a sick note. But I can’t!!! I’m so good!! I’m so conscientious! I must keep shouting these things at myself!!! I sound like KBeck!!!

Anyway, let’s talk about last night’s dinner. I first heard about dad and brother’s trip to Mammoth where they were fly fishing: my dad apparently caught twice as many fish as my brother. He also told me like 20 times. My brother claimed he brought it up around every 5 minutes when they were in Mammoth. I guess they’d be watching tv and out of the corner of his eye Greggy would see Dick making fly casting motions and laughing. When the waiter comes to take our order my dad starts asking about the “sandabs” (apparently little fishies that resemble small sole and are all over the north/central west coast…) and then explaining to the waiter how he’s out here visiting his kids and telling his life story. Have another martini dad. He proceeds later on to tell the waiter AGAIN that he’s out here visiting his kids and the waiter actually chimes in and finishes his story for him. So in case you’ve every wondered about me…there it is…this is the stock I come from…

My dad wanted me to recap the Bruce Willis story for him so I did, he really got a kick out of that… My brother personally thinks I’m a total motard. I then told dad that I’d also recently done the same intro with a rapper. He liked his too. I told him the story, and I had to include the location (strip club), but it’s ok b/c my dad is pretty chill. We agreed my mom would have a minor heart attack over the story. I guess she is one of those women that really hates strip clubs. My dad just concluded that they are a business and fact of life. Anyway he apparently has done implants on strippers, so essentially, strippers put food on my table and a roof over my head for many years of my life. I’ll leave you to think about that. The end.

**There’s this chick in my office that continually walks by and asks me if I’m “rocking out” whenever I have my headphones on. Who says that???