Blopez
In a September entry called "Quiz/Show," I introduced my friend Wayne.
Wayne is the Falstaff to my Hal. He's likeable in a way that I will never achieve. His personality has a softness to it, no edges. Which isn't to say he's without his angles. He's like a parabola, headed one way, then sloping off to another vector.
And I'm Falstaff to his Hal. I'll never be more jolly than him, but I'll forever be less responsible. Wayne has always had a job since I met him when he was 17. He's dependable--dependable good and dependable bad.
When I lost my cell phone, he asked if I lost my SIM card too. I found this question too foolish to answer over email. But Wayne honestly wanted to know. (Dwight, Josh and I have developed a rapport with Wayne where we often speak in a satirical negation of his premise.) Our spoken exchange later went something like this:
Wayne: But you still have your old SIM card, right?
Me: Yes, Wayne. I'm thoroughly in the habit of removing my SIM card before I lose my phone. When I'm going to get my backpack stolen, I remove my laptop and cash too. When my bank cards fall out of my wallet, it's cool because I cancelled them the day before.
Dwight is more harsh; Josh is less. Wayne's wife has frequently admonished him about putting up with our bullshit. It's not bullshit...or rather, it IS. It's an ages-old script for comedy where Wayne plays the wild card and we play the straight men.
When we were kids, we would go out clubbing and follow that up with a trip to IHOP; these nights essentially defined Wayne's persona. Dividing up the bill went something like this: "OK, here's Josh's $5.50, there's my $6.00, and you owe $12.00." Wayne was aghast at the disparity, but he obligingly paid up. (I'm sure he secretly thought we were cheating him.) After five more such visits, he asked us how come we paid so much less. Josh and I simultaneously pursed our lips and shook our heads, talking on top of each other.
Josh: We order the specials, Wayne. You order everything a la carte. That shit's expensive.
Me: And when you want more coffee, don't hand the waitress your cup. That carafe is full. She charged you (picking up the receipt) for four coffees.
A few years ago, as Josh and I were detailing a recent Wayne story to his sister and her friends, Wayne's sister blurted out "That's so funny, because Wayne totally talks like that," referring to our faux-doofus rendering. Josh and I simultaneously pursed our lips and shook our heads, talking on top of each other.
Josh: Wayne doesn't talk anything like that!
Me: It's like a red octagon means "Stop;" THIS is the universal symbol for Wayne.
Last night, Josh and I were SMSing. 4AM, my time. 7PM, his. He asked me about my last days in NYC. I told him a stripper gave me her phone number...in a strip club.
Josh: Maybe your new thing should be going 2 strip clubs and leaving w/phone numbers + more money than you arrived with. It would make Wayne crazy. Like IHOP 4 adults.
Me: I'm trying to go to sleep & now i cant b/c ill be laughing for the next 7 hrs! "hey jer that one let me touch her." "is that a fact, wayne? good job, real good..."
Josh: "Josh, can I borrow $20? I want a lap dance." "Ask Jer, he's getting a lap dance and $60 as we speak."
Good friends eventually become parodies of who they really are to each other. It cuts down on the need to "talk." We just share in-jokes like AIDSers with IVs. It's easier and harmless in comparison with going outside our circles.
I know Wayne will like this post. We talk nostalgically about being kids now that we're not. His wife won't like this at all. And anyone who knows us will just go "Yep."
Wayne's birthday is April 25th. The best thing about this post is I can email it to him in six months with this paragraph removed, and he'll go "Heh, heh," like it's completely fresh to him. Or I can email it to him with this section intact, and he'll go "Wait, Jer, TODAY is April 25th."
You can't get better comedy than that.
Wayne is the Falstaff to my Hal. He's likeable in a way that I will never achieve. His personality has a softness to it, no edges. Which isn't to say he's without his angles. He's like a parabola, headed one way, then sloping off to another vector.
And I'm Falstaff to his Hal. I'll never be more jolly than him, but I'll forever be less responsible. Wayne has always had a job since I met him when he was 17. He's dependable--dependable good and dependable bad.
When I lost my cell phone, he asked if I lost my SIM card too. I found this question too foolish to answer over email. But Wayne honestly wanted to know. (Dwight, Josh and I have developed a rapport with Wayne where we often speak in a satirical negation of his premise.) Our spoken exchange later went something like this:
Wayne: But you still have your old SIM card, right?
Me: Yes, Wayne. I'm thoroughly in the habit of removing my SIM card before I lose my phone. When I'm going to get my backpack stolen, I remove my laptop and cash too. When my bank cards fall out of my wallet, it's cool because I cancelled them the day before.
Dwight is more harsh; Josh is less. Wayne's wife has frequently admonished him about putting up with our bullshit. It's not bullshit...or rather, it IS. It's an ages-old script for comedy where Wayne plays the wild card and we play the straight men.
When we were kids, we would go out clubbing and follow that up with a trip to IHOP; these nights essentially defined Wayne's persona. Dividing up the bill went something like this: "OK, here's Josh's $5.50, there's my $6.00, and you owe $12.00." Wayne was aghast at the disparity, but he obligingly paid up. (I'm sure he secretly thought we were cheating him.) After five more such visits, he asked us how come we paid so much less. Josh and I simultaneously pursed our lips and shook our heads, talking on top of each other.
Josh: We order the specials, Wayne. You order everything a la carte. That shit's expensive.
Me: And when you want more coffee, don't hand the waitress your cup. That carafe is full. She charged you (picking up the receipt) for four coffees.
A few years ago, as Josh and I were detailing a recent Wayne story to his sister and her friends, Wayne's sister blurted out "That's so funny, because Wayne totally talks like that," referring to our faux-doofus rendering. Josh and I simultaneously pursed our lips and shook our heads, talking on top of each other.
Josh: Wayne doesn't talk anything like that!
Me: It's like a red octagon means "Stop;" THIS is the universal symbol for Wayne.
Last night, Josh and I were SMSing. 4AM, my time. 7PM, his. He asked me about my last days in NYC. I told him a stripper gave me her phone number...in a strip club.
Josh: Maybe your new thing should be going 2 strip clubs and leaving w/phone numbers + more money than you arrived with. It would make Wayne crazy. Like IHOP 4 adults.
Me: I'm trying to go to sleep & now i cant b/c ill be laughing for the next 7 hrs! "hey jer that one let me touch her." "is that a fact, wayne? good job, real good..."
Josh: "Josh, can I borrow $20? I want a lap dance." "Ask Jer, he's getting a lap dance and $60 as we speak."
Good friends eventually become parodies of who they really are to each other. It cuts down on the need to "talk." We just share in-jokes like AIDSers with IVs. It's easier and harmless in comparison with going outside our circles.
I know Wayne will like this post. We talk nostalgically about being kids now that we're not. His wife won't like this at all. And anyone who knows us will just go "Yep."
Wayne's birthday is April 25th. The best thing about this post is I can email it to him in six months with this paragraph removed, and he'll go "Heh, heh," like it's completely fresh to him. Or I can email it to him with this section intact, and he'll go "Wait, Jer, TODAY is April 25th."
You can't get better comedy than that.
posted by J Wilson at Sunday, November 20, 2005
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