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Not Fuckin' Around

8/1/04

Gordon "The Professional" Stokes and my mom helped me move into my new apartment almost two weeks ago, and as I told them at the time, I can't pay you, but I can cover dinner.  Dinner with Mr. Stokes was this past Sunday night, and I told him that for his steak dinner, we were gonna "hang out" at...

Ruth's Chris Steak House.

"Damn, Bell!"  Mr. Stokes replied when I told him the destination.  "You don't fuck around!"

It's true, in fact...I don't fuck around.  In fact, if there's one thing I rarely do, it's fuck around.  In general, I can't be around people that fuck around, because people that fuck around don't usually get along with me BECAUSE I don't fuck around.

As I analyze the people that are closest to me in my life right now, I don't think any of them really fuck around much at all.  My buddy Brian "Schmoove" Prenoveau--hasn't fucked around in 20, 25 years now--decided last year that he was just kind of sick of working for Joe Corporate America, so he just up and left the country for about a year, met some hot Czech woman and has only occasionally reminded us that he's not fucking around by sending his friends e-mails from tiny internet cafes in the Italian countryside or other remote locations around the globe.

Tony Tran, my friend Maiyen's father, doesn't fuck around, either.  His fuck-around ratio is so low that he decided that--for his daughter's wedding--he wouldn't just buy liquor, he would buy LIQUOR.  I appreciate that in a dad, leaving bottles of free Bacardi 151 lying around on a table with cups the size of those mugs from Maarten's "just in case" I got thirsty.  (I did this situation much better justice in the essay chaser, Vegetarian Fried Rice...with Bacon.)

Jeez, every time I think about the term "Don't Fuck Around", I keep comin' back to one of the kings of that shit, Brett "S'Up, Bitch?" Stone, who hasn't fucked around in years.  I used to refer to Stone as Full Tilt Boogie, because in San Francisco just when I thought the night was over, Brett Stone would be saying something like

"It's only 3:15, you fuckin' pansy--you wanna come back to my place for some more drinks?"

and then, you'd look around, and you were thinking that you should have gone home like...well, sometime before sunrise.  Seriously, does anyone end more stories with "...and then, it was like 6:30 in the morning, so I figured, shit, I've got to work at 9..."???

The Yac, Mike Iacovone (nearly an artiste when it comes to not fuckin' around) and I went to the movies about two months ago, and after we got out, he was like

"Hey Bell, I'll give you a call in a few weeks."

"Yeah?  You got something goin' on?"

"Well, I'm driving to Alaska."

"In that piece of shit car of yours?"

"No, a shittier one that I bought for $300.  See ya."

And then, the muthafucka DID drive to Alaska, in a $300 car, and sent me a post card from freakin' Alaska, and instead of saying "Hey Bell, this is some cool shit", he did what almost all of my friends do in written correspondence:  smack talk.

"What's up, bitch?  I made it!"

LOVE that!  I dated a bike messenger named Cassie (competes in full Ironmans in her spare time; loaded not-fuckin'-around quotient) for the last few months of my California existence, and back in May, she called me up.

"Hey Justin, guess what?  I took some leave from my job."

"Yeah?  You taking a sabbatical?"

"Kinda...I'm going to train to be a firewoman!  Wish me luck!"

Who does that?  Who dabbles in firefighting?  What females do you know that dabble in firefighting??  People I know do.

I was hangin' out on Saturday night--just trying to do what I do best, "hangin' out"--at this club in DC, and when I got to this place, I met up with Wim Taylor and his wife, the infamously serious-but-noncommittal Mandy Taylor.  Although I'm pretty sure I have gone dancing five times with Mandy after she tore ligaments in her knees a few months ago (shouldn't she be at home?), I am VERY sure that every time I go out with Wim, I say some variation of

"Does Wim Taylor EVER fuck around?"

Five minutes later, it is announced that Wim and his friends have reserved a table with bottle service.  So, we walk in for free, are given the VIP treatment, and drop $500 on drinks between the people in our group.  My friend Nina--not used to be around so many people that don't fuck around--actually asked me if one of Wim's friends was a celebrity.  I didn't know what to tell her, because yes or no, we were being given the full treatment...and, it was a plain old Saturday night.  No birthdays, no special occasion, just a night.  I thought it was 1999!

Now, don't get me wrong--not fuckin' around isn't always about money, but it does paint some cool pictures.  Like any of my guy friends that have dropped $2000 or more to watch television, or my friend Derwin, who doesn't just buy a sports car, he buys the Infiniti G35, because he's a fuckin' monster.  Like me, who doesn't just buy bacon...I'll drop $300 to have two pounds of bacon shipped to my door 12 times a year.  Like women I know (on this very mailing list) that will drop $150 every time they get a haircut, sans accoutrements.

When not fuckin' around isn't about money...well, those are the kinds of stories that I love to tell over and over.  25-year-old men that ask out a 40-year-old at a bar.  Women who ask men out.  Planning your own protests.  Bitching about what your party hasn't done for you lately, and then running for a seat in your local congress to see if you can do anything better yourself.  Making your own documentary, with your own money, in your "spare time."

I've been lucky to meet some cool people over the years, but outweighing that good fortune is the fact that there are so many people in my life that aren't taking the time to mess around with mediocre and going straight for the jugular.  Who doesn't love that?  Bellview advice for this week...hey, don't fuck around.  You'll be glad you...didn't!

 

Random Bellviews, courtesy of Bell and Longer Community Trust:

• Watching the Red Sox scramble to win the American League wildcard:  Opening Weekend

• Actual, God-given first name--Aquanet:  $9.50 Show

• No "Vibrate, Then Ring" option on a cell phone:  Matinee

• Constantly being questioned, "Why don't you get a DIGITAL camera?":  Rental

• Getting two parking tickets for $75...on the same night:  Hard Vice

 

justin@bellviewmovies.com