I’m just now dragging out of bed after a late night in deepest, trendiest Seattle with the wife and the always lucid uberblogger Homocon. The wife and I got to meet Homocon for dinner and drinks with his partner. I guess those guys must be in business together writing blogs…
…anyway, the four of us were so busy eating, drinking (well, those guys were doing the drinking because the wife and I don’t drink; fortunately this bistro did have a section at the bar for me to sniff my model airplane glue), and mocking the limo lefties populating the restaurant that the time got away from us.
“Dude! I just realized something,” I told Homocon as were getting into our cars at the end of the night. “It’s after midnight and now it’s Frank J.’s birthday. We ought to call him to say happy birthday.”
Homocon checked his watch. “Yeah, but I thought you said that Frank lives in Florida.” He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head disapprovingly. “Won’t it be a little late to call him right now?”
That potentially good point was dismissed because I was already dialing my phone. On the eighth ring, I offered up some shaky justification to Homocon and the other three people in our party who were now glaring at me in the parking lot. “I’m pretty sure Frank said he was born in California, so it makes more sense to call him after midnight Pacific Time.”
On the seventeenth ring, Frank picked up the phone and slurred “Oh God, who died Ma?” immediately followed by the sound of Sarah screaming at Frank for taking the Lord’s name in vain.
“What up, my dawg?” I yelled into the phone. “Felíz cumpleaños, primo! Y’all celebrating yet? We are here on the Left Coast. Lemme hand the phone over to kick ass blogger that wants to wish you a happy birthday…” I held my mobile phone out to Homocon, whose eyes widened as he vigorously shook his head.
“Who the hell is this?” the tinny voice of Frank asked through my mobile phone, followed by the sound of Sarah beating him for swearing.
Homocon took the phone out of my hand: “Sorry, wrong number,” he said and threw the phone back to me. “You might want to wait a few days before you talk to Frank again.”
Homocon shook my hand and gave my wife a little hug before getting into their car. Before getting into the driver’s seat of their car, Homocon’s partner shook hands with me and said: “You know, if you write about this on the blog you’ll probably get death threats.”
Ah, truer words!