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"You really are clueless, an embarrassment to the name. Hope you're adopted." -- June Dever
"this guy is right about conserving a clue. he hasn't one and that leaves more for the rest of us." -- Jim Lovell
"Your e-mail addy... should be 'dever@getalife.net.'" -- Sponge
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| BloggerFiesta - The Preface |
| Posted by: dever on Monday, August 26, 2002 - 03:00 AM |
Monday, August 26th, 1400 EDT
"Would you state your full name and occupation for the record please?"
"Dever, Douglas Allen. Blogger." The bright white light shining in my eyes was more a nuisance than an intimidation factor. Christ, I thought people only did shit like this in the movies, but no, the boys in the cheap J. C. Penny?s suits with their "Special" identification cards wanted to play cloak and dagger games. I wouldn't have cared except that light was giving me a fucking headache ? couldn't they tell I was still hung over?
"Mr. Dever, can you describe the events of August 24th and 25th, 2002 for us?"
"Un-fucking-believable."
"Perhaps you'd care to provide a bit more detail?"
"Is this where if I say 'no,' you start the Chinese water torture?"
"Mr. Dever, I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation you're in. This is hardly the time to be glib."
Oh, sure, I understood I was in a tight spot. We all knew there'd be repercussions for our actions. But there?s no way they could understand. I'd quite possibly seen everything man was supposed to see in the previous 72 hours, survived, and walked away with the scars to prove it. No, they wouldn't understand gravity of the situation I'd experienced, but since they really wanted to know, I attempted to explain it to them anyways?
Friday, August 23rd, 1715 EDT
I'm trying to get out of work and head for Sal and Angelo's. I've got an appointment to keep with the GM or the Olsen's are going to be short on wine. Just my luck, a customer downstairs expects me to make Ameritech do an install for him at 5pm on a Friday evening. Sure, Ameritech is going to pay a switch tech overtime to complete a customer circuit on a Friday night ? right after wild monkeys fly out of my ass. I try my best to explain the situation as I head out to the parking lot wiht him in tow. By 8pm, I've made my first pick-up, enjoyed a wonderful meal, and am on my way to a non-descript house off of W. 150th street. In the garage of an average looking house, on just another side street was my secret stash of 1997 Kent Rasmussen Cabernet Sauvignon ? the last bottles in the State of Ohio. I made a quick call to David to make sure everything was ready at Great Lakes Brewing Company for the next day. With the reassurance that our man was in place, I retired for the evening, knowing I'd need the sleep where I could get it.
Saturday August 24th, 1523 EDT
I spun the wheel on the Lincoln hard and put my foot into it, enjoying the feel of eight cylinders responding to my control. I was happy with myself, having only spent 90 minutes shopping for mixers and eating some lunch. I adjusted the prescription Armani sunglasses on my head and headed out to unload a car full of alcohol a la casa del Olsen. Mind you, I'd never actually met anyone there, but I felt like I already knew some of the folks supposed to be there. I was in a familiar groove ? it was going to be a good day and I was ready for anything? except for the two blondes waiting inside, that is.
One step through the front door was all it took to find myself face to face with a franticly cleaning Dawn Olsen. Let me tell you something, Dawn is even more striking and beautiful in person than in the pictures she's shared with everyone ? and that's a tough number to beat. A couple of minutes talking to her and you realize that Eric may be one of the luckiest guys alive ? she's smart, funny, super cool, and incredibly sexy.
As I quickly found myself reduced to partial sentences and a cold sweat, I turned to see flowing blond hair and black plastic glasses framing a face no one could mistake. As she introduced herself I was too stunned to act surprised. So, Foxy Moxie had been holding out on the Deev, saying she couldn't make it and was too cool to hang out with us Midwesterners in O-HI-O. She had fooled me; I should have known the dame knew where to find a good time.
In short order I also met the incredibly affable Eric Olsen who helped me unload the car. We discussed some logistical issues still outstanding and split up to finalize the arrangements for ice and beer. You're instantly disarmed in Eric's presence ? he's just a super nice guy with an amazingly laid-back demeanor about him. It's probably the only thing that keeps him sane around Dawn.
I tried to stay out of Suzie's way as she pulled her best Martha Stewart impression ? minus the bitchy attitude. She's an amazing cook, more fun than is allowed by law in some puritanical states, comfortable and confident with herself, and was probably the one person who really pulled the whole party together. I've heard about women like her existing in the south, but always thought it was an exaggeration ? I was wrong. Chuck probably said it best, "If she was 10 years younger I'd marry her."
Coming up? the party gets started, toe fetishes are revealed, keg stands, spin the bottle and more...
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