3 Strangers And A Friend

Saturday, Oct. 22^nd, 2011

12:38pm

“When I get fat, the weight either goes to my neck or my legs”, I smirked to myself amongst the brunch table of five. “Liz, where do you wish the weight would go when you gain it?”.

“Ugh, I wish it would all go to my ass”, replied Liz. “What about you Jeff? Where do you wish the gained weight would go?” Jeff, took a moment, glared at the extra large cheese burger he just ordered, looks up at the table, “When I get fat, I wish it would all go to your face.” I almost spit my water out from laughing so hard. It seems everything this man says is absolutely made-for-reality-TV and/or the caliber of comedy writers throughout. What’s off is Jeff isn’t trying to be funny, this is his actual cadence. This is just him; an eccentric, bi-racial, twenty-something, ex-cheerleader from Madison, WI on visit in Milwuakee our mutual friend’s birthday weekend.

Since I landed late last night, Jeff and I have developed a strange animosity. Directly after our introduction, Jeff made it clear he didn’t like me. “You think I’m fat!” he announced right after our handshake. Given he’d be drinking a bit, as well as I, I knew I was in the gutter with the guy right away. After several hilarious banters back & forth over the brunch table, at Ma Fischer’s in the heart of Mke, Jeff turned toward me, “So wait, what’re you doing here?- like, I mean why are you in Milwuakee?” Ahh yes, the golden question even I don’t have a straight answer for. Everyone at the table slowly meanders their food to their plate to pay audience to my response. I look down to the eggs and cholesterol fest on my plate, crack a smile.

My rationale begins to twerp of the looming thoughts to answer him with; it’s The Blend’s 10-year anniversary in a few days and that should mean something to more people than just myself if at all, my car shakes like a Tito Fuente’s maracas in his prime and to answer your question I’m f*cking stranded and currently looking for a serving job in the city, or hey- I f*cking love this city and wish my relationship with music, modeling, and acting were tight as a drum rather than acquaintences you only see when your drunk some weekend at some bar.  I’m stuck, and maybe I should’ve stayed in Ames before coming to Milwaukee, however last night was epic in the sense I would not have been able to live it down if I’d missed Kid Cut Up spinning at the world’s most bougie bar (Dick’s, downtown Milwaukee) and bluffed on a birthday promise to a friend.

Since landing in Milwaukee, taking time to breathe has ranked at the bottom on the list of things-to-do. I don’t even want to get into the night before in Ames, IA(which I’ll talk about later), and right now having brunch with people I just met is taking my mind of the certain death my car and/or wallet may reach in the next 24hours. This trip has definitely been something of cathartic, but also high-risk. My better half wants to stick to that last statement- “high-risk”. However, the other half want so say my circumstances were unnecessary, however this trip is simply to bring purpose to a shitty circumstanced weekend from past. My band, The Blend, was given a check for x-amount of dollars from a club in Ames, IA after performing a show… several days later, the check bounced. Within that same weekend, I promised Liz I’d make it out to celebrate her birthday in Milwaukee. Her and her ex-cheerleader friends were making the trip from their hometown of Madison to do it big in Milwaukee. I’d only seen the west side and Brady St. of Milwaukee. Never had I attended a club in downtown.

Now, eating brunch with 3 strangers and a friend, even this cannot hold the moment where I don’t have to answer to someone. For as long as I walk the path of traveling musician, every now & then Target model, and film actor- there ain’t a chance in hell at someone recognizing, “Hey there’s the guy from the coffeeshop” or “Hey, there’s… that dude.” Na, simply won’t happen.

“I’m here to promote a show. We’re in town two weeks from now and I’m just promoting while I’m here.” I answer Jeff. “Oh, coooool, when’s your show?” he asks. I fill him in, we chat music for few minutes, the even more popular question of “What do you do?” circles the table as we all brand our duties in everyday life- meh, but what’s missing is what the hell are we doing at this table hashing out qualifications while hungover. Jeff, must’ve read my mind in breaking the mode of bullshit cubicle chatter as two well-to-do white guys passed by in Abercrombie & Fitch- “Ooooh, that’s my boyfriend. I am definitely going to say something to him”, Jeff declared as he began to egg on Liz’s sister to wingman for him and ditch her hashbrowns

I bid adieu to my friend and three strangers, waltzed it back to Sherman’s house where I’m staying for the weekend, and sat on the steps for a moment… yeah, I should be able to get rid of all these posters and fliers tonight. Although my car, wallet and many more forces of nature may not agree with me, that’s what I came here to do.