Brian and I grabbed dinner at an Italian place called Pomodoro's in Catskill, where I saw someone with a truck and boat quintuple parked. Afterward, we chilled out in the garage for a while. A recurring theme of our recent conversations has been people from elementary or high school who have since dropped off the face of the earth. For the first time, I believe, since I came home, I saw his father and we exchanged pleasantries. Later still, my own father engaged me in a lengthy conversation about rock and roll and was disappointed by me twice. First, I stated that I prefer Huey Lewis & The News to Joe Cocker; second, I failed to know who Dick Clark was. He also rejected the idea that "Rat City in Blue" might possibly, under some very select set of circumstances, be wordplay on "Rhapsody in Blue."
Quotes of the day:
"People from Long Island don't even think. Their IQs are all below 80, so." - Father
"It was sixth grade, dude! Everyone dated Melissa [redacted] in sixth grade. It was the thing to do." - Brian
"If you were in the 845, you were in this special clique. Like you go to a party and you say, 'I'm from the 845,' and they lovingly welcome you into this big party." - Brian
"People get tattooed with an 845, did you know that?" - Brian
"She doesn't fucking speak. I could kick her in the fucking knee and she wouldn't say anything." - Brian
"Dude, I fucking hate her! I went up against her in laser tag and she kept running into me and got pissed off 'cause I kept getting her. I was gunning for her for a little while." - Brian
"Wow, we did a damage to this last night." - Brian
"All I care about is Adam Levine, Tim Tebow and tanning." - Brian
Drop the tanning and Adam Levine (well, only part of the time), and Brian and I are one in the same. Tell him he can be best man at Tim and I's wedding.
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