Tubby Tales

A few things to talk about on a Friday morning here...

1. Tubby and I made our second consecutive midnight DD run last night for dinner. You see, the last two nights have been marked by booze and a general lack of eating (I ate Wed. night, not last night), so we've twice found ourselves famished upon arrival back at Humboldt. So last night, we walk in and there's a man at the counter being chummy with both the cliche cop next to him as well as the cashier. He looked familiar to both of us, but we had to wait until he left to ask the cashier who he was. Turns out it was Kevin McBride, the infamous Southie Pugilist who ended Tyson's career by embarrassing him in the ring. Only now, he's a far cry from the muscular, daunting figure he used to exhibit. Don't get me wrong, he's very intimidating but now's rather tubby (no offense, Tubby) and doesn't appear to be taking care of himself all that much. Plus, the guy spent over $20 at DD (if you know how much one usually spends here, you know that this is an ungodly amount of coin to drop on coffee and donuts) and walked out with a Box 'O' Joe and enough doughy delights to feed an Aboriginal tribe. Did I mention it was midnight? Maybe closer to 1 at this point? Who gets a giant box of coffee at midnight? And save me the suggestion of him possibly working the night shift somewhere because that will ruin this story. I will say this about Kevin McBride: if there is ever a time in a man's life to let himself go and be a tubby bastard, it's following the defeat of Lightning Mike in the boxing ring. I don't care if Tyson was in the twilight of his career. Truth be told, his career was well past twilight when McBride pasted him, but still...you beat Tyson, do whatever feels right, man. I will never think lesser of you for it.

2. I know I talk of him often and sometimes it seems like he could be an imaginary figure, but Carl, a.k.a. Tubby, a.k.a. the Uncle, a.k.a. Fucky, a.k.a. Chip, a.k.a. Wiggly, has been tearing it up on email lately. I got a forward yesterday that was pretty fucking good. Hold on, it should be widely known that any time I get an email from him that begins with "this guy is on fire, everybody", I know it's gonna be good shit. Anyway, he sent one out yesterday in regards to a new b n b of his that he had been exchanging emails with all day. I'm not going to cut and paste here because it's too all over the place, but I have dually noted that 1) he made a Kung Fu reference to her (awesome) and 2) he used parentheticals to inform her that he was using his 'seductive voice'. Grade A, right there. Grade A.

3. I wore a short-sleeved shirt today without a jacket and I drove the whole way to work (45mi.) with the window down. IT'S NOVEMBER 17th. The whole 'It's just New England' thing is overplayed, but shit. New England is effed. Now would be the perfect time to go for a late night ocean dip because the air temp and water temp are practically identical.

4. Last one...if anyone two people would like to join our dinner party on Friday night, let me know. There's a reservation for 8 and we're holding firm at 6 because Fornari can't find a date. Actually, let's do this: if anyone out there would like to be set up with a tall, handsome, funny doctor with a great personality, I can't help you. But, if you'd like meet an undersized, average-looking-but-still-funny doctor with a personality of an acorn, Fornari is your man. Just kidding, Fono. He really is a doctor, though. That's gotta be good enough for a lot of women, no? I'll probably catch shit for that one.

Hope you enjoy this balmy Friday. Now go out there and get some strange ass, would you?