You know when old married couples talk about each other and say crap about what a wacky character their spouse is, like, “She always keeps me on my toes!” or “You never know what he’s going to say next!”
That’s how I feel about Big Chris.
Yesterday, Chris calls, forcing me to rouse myself from the couch and my viewing of Wildlife Wars (which I HIGHLY recommend.)
“Wanna get lunch?”
“Sure. I’m still in my jammies, tho.”
“Cool. I’ll be there in 15.”
I returned to the couch and to Wildlife Wars, looking at my roommate happily vegging with no intention of doing anything anytime soon. Conveniently, it takes 30 seconds to convince Mikey to do anything.
“Stab yourself with this knife.”
After a quick shower, I threw open my bedroom door to find Chris standing there, pounding Gatorade a la Napoleon Dynamite. After a lengthy discussion, we agreed on Gordon Biersch and headed down to the water.
Chris prides himself on “keeping it real.” Here are ways in which Chris keeps it real:
1. “Damn woman, you need to clean up around here. What the shit? Company’s over.”
2. “What the fuck happened to your car? It looks like something exploded.”
3. “Jesus, that chick is fat. Hi. It’s called a sit-up.”
4. “You are an idiot for ordering that. Mike, I hope you want two beers because there’s no way she’s gonna drink that.”
5. “Let’s go somewhere we don’t usually go. Like some shit dive bar in Chinatown.”
That last one was a stroke of genius. Instead of hitting our standard Sunday afternoon boozy haunts (Sinbad’s, Trad’r Sam’s, etc.) Chris decided the three of us needed to broaden our cultural horizons. So after lunch, we booked it to Chinatown’s Buddha Bar, where Animal Planet blared from a corner television and the bathroom was basically within the most shady, hardcore, basement lair in all of Chinatown. I half expected to see indentured stowaways hiding out with a pee bucket and a rice cooker. I rarely take the time to utilize the “Rest Assured” or “Neat Seat” toilet seat covers, but I doubled up yesterday. I was taking no chances down there in Mr. Wong’s House of Smells.
It was at Buddha Bar that I perfected my newest concept, a local television show called “Keepin’ it Real, with Big Chris.”
Chris would host his show at a different crappy bar every week and Mikey would be his sidekick, laughing along as Chris keeps it real with his guests.
“What would you say if Gavin came on?”
“I’d say, ‘Hey pal. We all like to get underage chicks drunk and bang like bunnies. But just because I can do it, doesn’t mean you can.’”
“Can I be on your show?”
“Hell no. No one would watch. There’s only 2 people that have ever read your blurb and you’re looking at ‘em.”
“Actually, Mikey doesn’t read. It is a major point of contention.”
“Okay, so one person knows who you are. Now you can really NOT be on my show.”
“Your show was MY idea.”
“Hey, I’m just keepin’ it real…”