Thursday, August 9, 2012
Jay Buhner's Day Off
The phone rang. I checked the caller ID.
Oh hell naw. I didn't need this today. I had Twittering to do. If you don't keep the tweets coming the spambots get bored and unfollow. I've lost 6 this week! He could go to voicemail.
The phone continued to chime. I yanked the battery to shut it up.
I jumped three feet out of my chair and spun around.
"Dammit, Jay! How the hell did you get into my house??"
"I knew you wouldn't answer the phone so I let myself in. Get some pants on, we're going."
"Going where? I don't have time go anywhere today."
"You working today?"
"Me neither, let's have some fun on our day off."
"Yeah, I'd love to, but I'm really too busy today."
"Doing what? Playing videogames? Downloading music you don't have time to listen to? Writing blog posts that maybe a couple dozen people will ever read?"
"I've got to finish some sketches... I haven't done laundry yet this week... and I really need to get to the post office for one thing. I haven't sent Nachos Grande his trade stack package yet."
"We'll hit the post office on the way. Let's get moving, we're burning daylight."
I grabbed my hat. I knew I was going as soon as I head the phone ring. When Buhner wants to party he won't take no for an answer.
"All right, fine. Lemme find some pants that don't stink too badly."
Jay handed me a pair with a large stain on the crotch from a tragic chilidog mishap and doused me in Axe body spray.
"DARK TEMPTATION?? WTF dude. Are we at least taking the 1961 Ferrari 250 GT California?"
"Hell no. It would never get through this traffic. We're taking the truck."
"How do you like your first game at Yankee Stadium so far?"
"This isn't Yankee Stadium. They tore down Yankee Stadium. This is an unholy abomination desecrating the spirit of baseball."
"Aw lighten up and enjoy your tequila. The owner's box was really cool, wasn't it?"
"Well yeah, that was pretty swank. At least until they chased us out after we raided the bar."
"They didn't chase us out. The owners love me!"
"The owners may love you, but security sure doesn't."
"I just really wanted to give you the grand tour of the stadium. That's why we left so quickly."
"THEY HAD TASERS."
"And thanks to my quick thinking, now WE have tasers just in case they get twitchy again. That's cool, right? Now come on, I wanna show you the locker room."
As much as I loathe this gigantic corporate boondoggle of a ballpark, at least there are elevators. I couldn't handle stairs in my condition. The elevator operator cautiously regarded Jay and his electric weaponry and let us off at the clubhouse level.
"You gotta see the locker room. It's awesome! Finish up that tequila first though."
"This ain't tequila, it's mezcal. There's a damned bug in my booze."
"Whatever it is, finish it up, there's a locker I want you to see."
"I don' wanna see no damn A-Fraud locker with piles of roids and a centaur painting. I like ponies but not that kind..."
"Shut up, come on and FINISH THAT BOTTLE."
"All of it?"
"ALL OF IT."
Bone wanted me to eat that worm for some reason. Screw that, the mezcal had already messed me up beyond repair and I wasn't going to be able to hold down my liquor AND an insect. I was starting to come down from rolling drunk to woozy buzzed so I decided to carefully drink the last of the liquor and triumphantly hand Jay an empty bottle with a worm inside. When we got to the locker that was so dang important to see I took a swig...
And friggin Jay tilted the bottle straight up, causing the contents - including the agave larvae - to slide straight down my gullet. Visions of Craig T. Nelson in Poltergiest 2 ran through my head. Nope nope Nope NOPE. I got rid of that worm quickly and efficiently. Right into the locker Jay had brought me to see.
Ichiro Suzuki stood stunned in front of his locker. A brand new Yankees jersey that would one day be cut into small pieces by an intern at 1 Whitehall Street was now splashed with half a bottle of mezcal and the remains of a hot dog. The worm had lodged itself in the point of the Y and stoicly viewed the scene. Jay was not so stoic.
"THAT'S RIGHT, ICHIRO! DON'T YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT WASTING MY MARINERS' MONEY WITH A 10 MILLION DOLLAR CONTRACT! THEY'RE REBUILDING, THEY DON'T NEED YOU CHEWING UP MOST OF THE BUDGET WITH YOUR .630 OPS WHEN WE GOTTA GET SOME REAL HITTERS WHILE WE STILL HAVE KING FELIX! NEXT TIME IT'LL BE ME PUKING IN YOUR LOCKER AND YOU SAW ME AT THE 2001 ROOKIE HAZING PARTY! I KNOW HOW TO PUKE!"
Everyone in the room was focused on Buhner's rant. I had heard it all before so I was the first to see security charge in. They had more than tasers this time. I pulled myself up off the floor and grabbed Jay, pulling him toward the exit. For a fat guy I run pretty well when I'm drunk and in mortal peril. Bone finally comprehended the situation we were in and managed to slow down the rent-a-cops with the tazers. I was able to get Curtis Granderson to sign the mezcal bottle in all the confusion. Man, Curtis is a good guy. I also snagged a six-pack from the post game buffet. I don't really remember how we got out of Yankee Stadium though.
"Wake up, man. The night is young!"
My shirt now smelled worse than my jeans and all of me smelled even worse than that because I had been doused with body spray again. We were back in the truck. the back seat was filled with empties and the 1996 World Series Championship trophy.
"Oh god... I feel like a porcupine died in my mouth. What the hell happened???"
"We saw a game... had a little fun... I got you a souvenir! Now we're headed to a party at my buddy's house."
"Aw jeez, I can't go to a party in this condition. I smell like a portable toilet at Bonnaroo and look even worse."
"Calm down, I got this. I picked up a Yankee jersey at the park so you have fresh clothes for the party. I think I have some extra Zubaz in the back if you want to get out of those jeans."
"I'm not wearing no damn Yankees jersey, I'm not a complete douchebag yet!"
"Just look at the back, dude."
Number 8. All righty then.
This crap happened every single time. Jay would bring me to a party at one of his celebrity friends' house and while he hung out with the cool people I ended up a wallflower. Like that time we went to karaoke with the Baldwins and I got to hear Billy talk about Fox News for an hour while Jay and Alec sang Skynard. Oh, then there was the bowling party he threw for Jeff Bridges were I wound up playing air hockey with Beau for TWO HOURS. I'll never forgive Bone for that one. I knew I was in for it when we pulled up to the Stillers' house.
Yep. Here we go again. Bone had already drank Amy under the table, booty danced with Anne Meara and was now engaged in Feats of Strength with Jerry Stiller. They battled in the "Slam Dancing to Mastodon" competition while Ben and I sat on the couch watching Meet the Fockers. I greedily quaffed a bottle of wine to numb the horror.
"Don't you have Mystery Men or something? That's a good movie."
"We haven't gotten it on Blu-Ray yet."
"Well you should. The Bowler is kinda hot."
Awkward silence. I polished off the bottle of wine.
"Why don't you make another movie like Zoolander? That was funny as hell."
"We're working on the script for Zoolander 2 now. Should be out in 2014 if we can get everything squared away."
"Oh. Um. Cool."
More awkward silence. Robert De Niro winced at Barbara Streisand.
"You want more wine? We got a ton of that stuff lying around. No one drinks it anymore."
"Uh... sure, thanks. Hey, you got Madagascar on Blu-Ray? I love that movie."
Ben opened a drawer in end table by the couch and pulled out another bottle of wine. That stuff really was stashed everywhere.
"Sorry, no. Jay borrowed it a while back and hasn't returned it yet."
I uneasily remembered the stack of Jay's Blu-rays sitting on my desk at home gathering dust. I don't even have a Blu-ray player. My phone rang. The Circus Afro song played loudly.
"Oh, hey, that's from the new one. You liked it?"
"Oh yeah, it was pretty good. I ripped the ringtone from the torrent I downloaded off the Pi- Pu... uh. Oh."
There was about a half-bottle of German wine's worth of awkward silence.
"If you don't like the Focker movies, I'm sure we can find something on Hulu."
"Oh! No, this is um, great. Reeeally great. No. Fine. This is good. Yeah."
Ben's character got emotionally punched in the crotch again on the plasma screen. The real Ben looked over at Jerry and Jay. They were now battling in the "Flip the Table" competition. They ran out of tables so Jerry flipped an etterge. Jay's face fell when Anne held up a 9.6 score for the flip. I took another swig. In a moment of clarity I realized that all those family members were stuck hanging out with me, not the other way around. Wine wasn't going to fix this feeling. Luckily, I had just spilled the rest of the bottle on my already horrible jeans. Ben broke the silence.
"So um, what's with those jeans? Is that, uh, a thing?"
"Oh. Uh, no. I didn't do laundry this week. It was either this or Zubaz."
"You made the right choice. You kinda smell like chocolate and cheese though."
"Heh, that's a damn good Ween CD."
"I know! You want to see 'em live?"
"Uh, sure? You got a concert video?"
"No, not on video, let's go see 'em live."
"But... it's past midnight. They're not even out on tour. I'm pretty sure they just broke up too..."
"No problem. I've got Dean and Gene on retainer. I can have a show set up in a couple of hours."
"Wait, what?? You can get Ween to reunite the group and play a gig at three in the morning JUST LIKE THAT???"
"Do you have any idea how much money I made from these Focker movies?"
I opened my mouth to say something. I thought for a moment. I closed my mouth. It opened again when my jaw muscles decided to take five. I looked over at the Feats of Strength competition which was in the final round. Call of Duty. Jerry was teabagging Jay in the game and shaking his rump at him in real life. I called out to them.
"GUYS! FINISH THAT UP. WE'RE GOING TO GO SEE A BAND."
I turned to Ben.
"You got any mezcal?"
"Wake up dude, you're home."
"Whu- huh? What happened?"
"We just had an awesome day off, that's what happened!"
I looked down. The jeans were gone. My now stained Yogi jersey was thankfully just long enough. I had somehow picked up a pair of hot pink Doc Martens. I didn't even know they came in that color.
"Wha- what the hell happened last night? Where are my pants? Why can I no longer see the color green? Why am I in so much pain?"
"Jerry Stiller kicked you in the butt when you illegally downloaded Hairspray on his iPhone. It's all good though. I got him to autograph the other cheek. You wanted to get it permanently tattooed but I talked you out of it."
"Oh God, my super-special talent is getting my ass kicked by a Jewish comedian."
"Aaaah, don't worry about it. It was all just some harmless fun."
"HARMLESS FUN?! You filled me up with so much liquor I probably have brain damage right now. I'm pretty sure we got shot at last night and I'll probably be hearing from the MPAA's lawyers soon. How the hell is that harmless??"
"You worry too much. You enjoyed yourself plenty last night."
"I don't remember enjoying ANYTHING last night."
I hopped out of the truck. I tripped on the untied lace of my pink Doc Martens and faceplanted into the lawn. Buhner got out and sat down on the hood of his truck. I spit out some gray sod and glared at Jay.
"Dave, what have you seen tonight?"
"Nothing - wha - what do you mean nothing good? You had Red Snapper at La Bernadin! You and Bill Clinton prank called Michael Bloomberg! You saw Ween reunite! Steve Aoki and Lady Gaga came to the show and they all ended up forming a supergroup! You and Gaga hit it off so well you convinced her to scrap her new album and remix it into chiptune happy hardcore! You saw EVERYTHING good last night!"
"Huh? I don't remember any of that... besides, we went to New York and I didn't even get to go to MOMA."
"DUDE! We broke in after the concert! Where do you think your jeans are? They're hanging up next to the Matisse!"
"Bullsh!t. I don't believe any of this."
"We got it on video. Where did you even find Pinkie Pie underoos in 2XL anyway?"
Jay pulled up YouTube and handed me his phone. There I was, dancing pantsless in the middle of a darkened museum. My jeans were not hanging next to the Matisse, but rather by the Duchamp. My work is hanging in MOMA and Marcel will get all the credit. I checked the number of views. At least hardly anyone had seen it yet.
"Man, delete that crap while it only has 301 views."
"301 views and 82,973 likes."
I looked again. Oh dear. I checked the related videos. I had already been remixed into the Industrial Dance Group video. I handed Jay his phone.
"I'm going to bed. Don't call me."
"How the hell are you going to get any sleep when you have to go to work?"
"I'm off today, man."
Jay broke out into a huge grin. I could see my disheveled self in his sunglasses.
"Fine. But today we're taking the Ferarri."
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