Roads, Mills, Laps

In the first post of my drunken, candied orange slice phase, I have chosen to honor my best friend, Justin.
Let me tell you a bit about us before he gets a link:

-We met in German class Freshman year (Benicia High School). Our teacher was very gay (not that there is anything wrong with it). We liked German so much that we used to visit our teacher at lunch and hang out there; he liked us so much that he used to make us wear dresses sometimes during class (something is wrong that). I’m a forever a ‘boxers’ man because of that experience.

-He can ollie very high.

-He is referred to by others as Jut, but I gave him the moniker, ‘Snidollie,’ which has only stuck with me. Everyone else calls him ‘Jut.’ Yes, I was a rebel even back then.

-In a desperate attempt to skate a pool, we snuck into the Benicia sewage plant in the middle of the night. We got chased and one of us went into the shit.

-He has many tattoos.

-He has many children.

-He ran his own record label: Springbox records.

-He and I were there when Green Day played at my friend’s house.

-He saw Op-Ivy’s last concert.

-He was in a successful band that sounded a lot like Helmet. When he sang he was awesome, but when others sang there was a lot of screaming; I didn’t like the screaming. Please make it stop.

-He speaks fluent Russian.

-He was a day trader and has shorted my ex-company’s stock. Yay!

-He is double-jointed and is the life of the party with his chest bone.

-He used to have a vial of water that he said was the AIDS virus: I believed him. It was scary; I handled it with more care than water from Lourdes.

-We once skateboarded all night long. We were part of a gang called, “Skaters From Moscow.” This was back when all things pre-Gorbachev Soviet were the ultimate symbols of rebellion. The all-night-long thing was called, “Skate Till Dawn” and was a bit too bowling-for-dollars-ish/Bobby and Cindy teeter tater-ish. Nevertheless, we succeeded in staying up all night.

-He had a VW squareback that had many strange stickers on the back. One of them said, “Skateboarding is not a crime.”

-I went to juvenile court for skating on the street. (See reason for sticker, above.)

-He was in the Air Force as a translator on a plane, got out, day traded etc. and now is a Captain in the Air Force. He is now stationed in Afghanistan fighting the barbarian jihadist fuzzies who infiltrate from Waziristan hellbent to restore the righteous and women-hating ways of the Taliban again. Go get ‘em Jut. Turn them into little pieces of Visigoth DNA, please. (Warning: serious ‘playa hater’ violation in effect.) Do that and then come home safe and sound to be reunited with your wonderful family.

Please stop by his blog and say ‘hi;’ he could use your support. He’s away from home; he’s in harm’s way, in the land of the timeless Jezail rifle and the Khyber pass; in the land where flag-draped coffins of fallen NATO soldiers and unknown spook warriors get loaded up the ramps of C-130s bound for Dover AFB or wherever. The rest of us bitch about cankles and shittily declining run times. Think about it for a second.

Thanks,

The management

This entry was posted on Wednesday, November 29th, 2006 at 8:31 pm and is filed under Res Gestae. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.