And How CAn it BE?!!

For reasons uninteresting, An Doof Ass will find himself in the icy grip of the Chicagoland spring this week upcoming. As you know, his visits are a kind of hell for me because I am required to spend hours drinking with him as he talks about his most recent probing project which sounds vaguely like all of his previous ones. These conversation also usually involve him spending much of the time spewing Latin and then translating it the sake of the unwashed masses of which I now belong. My only recourse when such pandering occurs is to turn to a near by stranger and begin discussing the finer point of not being a douche like An Doof. While this usually saves me the brunt of his social assault, it’s never enough to make the experience pleasant. Yet, I have reason to believe he has shoved off from the shores of debauchery and is not trying out a new found dignity and respect for deceny. For example, during a recent conversation An Doof Ass declared that I am to entertain him with a dinner party during his stay.

Working Boy: You mean like a bag of potato chips before the Schapps shots?
An Doof Ass: I was thinking red snapper.
W.B: I’m not familiar. Does it involve Apple Pucker? Because I got some Apple Pucker.

This conversation carried on for some time befure it became clear I had watered down my liquor and bought a case of Red Dog for nothing, for, you see, An Doof Ass fancies himself quite the urban sophisticate.

An Doof Ass: Tell you what, I’ll bring the scotch and cigars if you’ll work on the risotto and confits.
Working Boy: Um, I thought we were talking about the time the one guy smashed up the roof of my car with a horseshoe.
A.D.A: Oh my no. Aren’t we a bit old for such talk.
W.B: Are we?
A.D.A: Oh heavens yes.

When the conversation finally concluded I shrugged it off as the drunken rambling of a delusion ass who deserves nothing but perfunctory nod of the head during the pauses of his diatribes. So I went to sleep confident that no such dinner party was to be necessary.

A week after this conversation --for reasons outside of my control-- I drank a great sum of peach Vodka, listened to jazz records and made various mid-evening calls to whomever I thought would pick up their phone and discuss memories of days gone by.
With ancient friends from the motherland the discussion would involve memories of hot high school volleyball players and the crazy of adventures of those fifth period study halls (remember the time we went to the rival high school with all that baloney?) If however I called college chums, the stories of creative activities and clear fond memories would be replaced by the disheartening meanderings of foggy and conflated "memories" involving sitting poisoning ourselves before bouts of ill-advised rampages against various inanimate and, on a good night, animate objects. Shockingly, the old compatriots from my days as a North High Spartan were busy either watching cable t.v. at their parents house or working the overnight shift at the group home. So I was forced into an unfortunate fit of dialings to fellow Thunder-ians.

An Doof Ass picked up his phone after a couple of rings and I began with the customary greeting.

Working Boy: I demand you talk to me as I am drunk and lonely.
An Doof Ass: Oh hi Working Boy, actually this isn’t a good time for me.
W.B: What’s all that noise in the background. Are you listening to Stars bootlegs on your computer? Haha, good ol’ An Doof Ass you’re such a loser, I-
A.D.A: Actually I’m having a bit of a party here in my New York City apartment.
W.B: Since when is a Swisher Sweet and a glass of Jim Beam a party?
A.D.A: If you must know I’m hosting a Belgium themed party with an attendance well into the teens.
W.B: Horse shit! Who do you think you are?!
A.D.A: I’m sorry what were you saying, I was busy eating an oyster braised in a rather smart dubbel.
W.B: I don’t’ have time for your lies.

As it turns out however he was having a classy party and it did involve all those things and he does still expect me to throw him a dinner party during his stay. Little does he know that dinner party will be grilled cheese and bacon sandwiches with a side of frozen peas and enlightening conversation about how terrible my job is. Let’s see him class up that affair!