A Little More on LA from Last Night

The Butcher’s friend who he went to visit and accompany to 80s Prom was once an extra on How I Met Your Mother. And he went to the Griffith Observatory, which he tried to convince her he only knew from “that Paula Abdul video.”

She’s a stand-up comedian. I asked him if he was going to get to be in her act and he said “no.”

I said, “I know that’s hard for you.” And he wrinkled his nose and looked at me in a questioning manner, and I said, “Because no Phillips likes to hear they’re not entertaining enough to be talked about.”

Meanwhile, the Redheaded Kid was rambling on about his trip to Morocco. And I have to tell you that I’m still not sure if this was a real trip to Morocco he took at some point in his life or if he was just making it up to pull my leg, but he insists that you’ve not lived until you’ve eaten lunch in Morocco. Why lunch? Like, oh, breakfast in Morocco is nice, but nothing to write home about. Supper, fine, but again, nothing that is going to complete you. But lunch! My god, lunch in Morocco! That’s all there is to life. Lunch in Morocco.

Ha ha ha. I just looked up Moroccan cuisine on Wikipedia to see if it could shed light on this whole “lunch in Morocco” weirdness and I’ll be damned. Lunch in Morocco does sound fucking awesome. “The midday meal is the main meal, except during the holy month of Ramadan. A typical meal begins with a series of hot and cold salads, followed by a tagine. Bread is eaten with every meal. Often, for a formal meal, a lamb or chicken dish is next, followed by couscous topped with meat and vegetables. A cup of sweet mint tea usually ends the meal.”

I really should stop doubting the Redheaded Kid. It’s just hard because he always seems like he could be pulling your leg. Last night he ate a whole can of Pringles, some of the worst chocolate chip cookies known to man, and some pizza. And then complained about feeling sick, while also raving about lunch in Morocco and then quietly making fun of Kenneth Branaugh and how dude could never be on CSI.

They Grow Up So Quickly

I was talking to my other brother yesterday and he’s looking for some place to live with the current gal. He’s debating about whether to buy a house or rent (I know that most of you just fell off your chair, but I also have fallen off my chair, so let’s just leave that be) and he says, “Well, I don’t know if it makes sense to buy if I’m only going to be here for three more years.”

“Three more years?”

“You know, because that’s when J. graduates.”

I had to get back in my chair to fall off it again. My oldest nephew has his learner’s permit! What next? Chest hair? Just cart me off to the old folks home right now.

The baby who I remember like it was yesterday being born is a fucking man. Well, not a man man, but a young man. On his way to be an adult. I hope he gets a good life, can figure out how to make a life for himself where he has a home and open horizons and bills paid.

And I hope we don’t weigh him down in it.