Daryl, Bella and I went to dinner tonight at MaGerks in Horsham. It started with just Daryl and I, but Bella, while Daryl and I were halfway down Norristown Road heading to Horsham road, calls me to ask about my whereabouts. I told her that I had yelled up to her to let her know I was leaving. That I had thought she was sleeping.
“Can you and I go out to dinner? Grab a Sonic?”
“Of course baby. Would you mind going to dinner with Mr. Madden and I at MaGerks?”
“No, I don’t mind.” She says.
I make a U-turn. I look at Daryl and say “You don’t mind.” I already made the U-turn, so it’s basically my way of saying politely “You better make the right decision here buddy. Suck it up. I love you, but my baby comes first.”
Daryl and I have some drinks. He orders some IPA. Asks the bartender to surprise him with an IPA. I order a Bulleit neat. We stand outside on the patio. I smoke a cigarette. We talked about life. Daryl teases Bella as usual. She’s her smart-ass way.
I get texted that our table was open. We walk back to the hostess area, and back to where we were near the patio door. “Crowded.” I say.
“What did you expect? It’s Friday night.” Our fucking Bella says to me. I’m thinking “How the hell do you know what a Friday night at a sports bar looks like?”
I don’t order any food. Mama had stopped over earlier in the afternoon and dropped off some food. I had a bite then. I don’t eat typically after 4pm anyway. Except for our nightly snacks. That was a bad habit. But I loved that bad habit. It was our bad habit.
Bella ordered the Mild Wings and Fried Mozzarella Sticks. “Shirley Temple?” I ask Bella.
“Nah, I’m fine with my water.” She answers.
I’m impressed. Healthy. Good decision baby. Way to make the right decision on your own. No one forces you to make a decision. We raised your brother and you so that you could make the right decision. We cannot be there for you every minute to make decisions for you. We can only raise you to hopefully you make the right decision. The rest is on you. You make your own path. You are both strong, smart, talented, leaders, and most importantly, compassionate. That means the world to me. Compassion. To stand up for what is right by others around you is compassion. Both of you are activists. You do not approve of the system and you voice it in your own way. Neither you nor myself pushed our babies to do or say anything. We allowed them to express themselves. We never taught them religion. We only taught them to believe in a God, a spirit, a higher power, call it whatever, why put labels on it? Treat people the way you want to be treated. Love others. Stand up for what is right. Be tolerant of other cultures, religions, ideologies, philosophies, and always listen. Talk less, listen more.
Neither you nor Bella could ever shut the fuck up. You both talked more and listened less. Must be a female thing. You love listening to yourselves talk. Ladies, we tune you out. I am telling you. We learn to tune the dial, the pitch, the levels all down to “0”. We can hear everything else around us clearly.
“You don’t fucking listen to me.” You always said to me.
“I do.” I would always reply. “Babe, I do listen to you.” Reinforcing to cover a lie. I seriously don’t remember a fucking thing you told me. I don’t even remember what happened yesterday. I’m at “Overload” capacity. More shit in my brain cannot get in. So you telling me about your PTO at Maple Glen Elementary and the fundraising events you used to put on with the rest of the board, I really didn’t listen. I just nodded. nodded. nodded a little more. But my mind was elsewhere. My mind was working.
I dropped Daryl off to his house and drove back to our home. He was getting his cigars and heading over.
He and I had a great talk. He shared more of his stories. You loved his stories. You loved the way Daryl tells a story. No one could tell a story better than Daryl. He made you fucking laugh. Every time he made the open mouth “O” face you’d bust out laughing. Every story has an “O” face in it. His travels stories. His sick and twisted stories. Every one is better than the one before it. I remember once trying to tell a story that happened to Daryl and myself. It was a hysterical story that I can’t really share. I had to at one point stop myself and hand it over to Daryl to describe it to all. I was butchering it and I knew he’d do a better job at telling it. And of course, he killed it.
Earlier while he and I were driving, he confessed to me how much he misses you. He misses your constant harassment of him. In texts, in-person, over the phone, car window to car window, any means possible to you to lay an insult. Insults, one after the other. He loved it when you insulted him. He looked forward to them. He almost used to set you up so that you’d insult him. You made him laugh like no other. You made all of us laugh. I miss the way you used to make me laugh.
Yesterday was a lot of fun. I started it late in the day. I was lazy. I rented an AirBnB house in the city earlier in the week. Used to get us a room at the Monaco. This time, I wanted to change. I’m not ready to go to the Monaco. The Louix Award Show was last night. You loved attending the Louix’s. We were online looking for dresses for you a few days before I lost you.
Check into the house was at 3pm. I meet up with Jenn and David at the Studio first. I was picking Jennifer up first before we head to the house. We loaded your car with booze. Jenn and I headed over to the house. David was going to follow us there.
I invited Carla’s nephew Frankie to come to the award show with me. The kid has the “It”. He’s going places. Reminds me of myself when I was his age. I’m going to take him under my wing and teach him the advertising business. He said he wanted to get into marketing. Brace yourself there Frankie, it’s going to be a wild ride. See you on Monday.
He meets us at the house around 5pm. The Louix wasn’t starting until 6:30pm. We had time to drink, smoke, chill, dance, whatever. The house didn’t have any toilet paper. WTF? It has fucking Google Home, but no toilet fucking paper?
We had a blast laughing at silly shit. We were giddy. It was going to be a great night. All of us. Well, almost all of us. Rich and Charlie couldn’t make it. Rich is sick, still sick with a cold. Charlie was rehearsing for his role as the Beast in “Beauty and the Beast.” We’re all going to go see him perform. I asked him “How do you make a 5′ Jew into a 7′ Beast?” Laughingly. “Are your hooves also stilts?” I question him more. And in his Charlie way, he pauses to chew on a smart response to outdo my zinger. The best he came back with was that he keeps tripping on his shoes/hooves. Plus he’s wearing a long trailing cape that keeps obstructing his movement. I’m of course busting laughing at the image of him. I love him. He’s a fucking awesome guy. Honored to be working with such brilliance.
We got there around 6:45. We were supposed to Uber over there, but Jenn was running late getting dressed. She said her husband Michael and her would just catch up with us there. So David, Frankie and I take your car and head over to Sugar House Casino where the Louix Award Show is taking place. I valet. Next car pulling over beside me is Ameet. Perfect timing. So now there are 4 of us out of 17. Gather the troops. Where are we meeting? Everyone is running late.
We finally get to the venue. You would have loved it. Oh my God would you have loved it. You would have been in your element. All sexed up, looking stunning as you always did, and in the middle of the casino. You’d be in your fucking heaven.
I say my “hi’s” to almost everyone I know. Hugs all around. Everyone was kind and supportive, no one over did it, just “Love”. They try to console me, but they also understand that tonight it’s about having fun. We’ll all chat about it at a later date over drinks. Hit me up and I’ll make it happen.
All 17 of us start to gather together except for fucking Sarah, she was running as usual, late. Her and Lubna just flat out suck with getting anywhere on time. Their body clock is super fucking slow.
The show starts, we were outside smoking on the balcony. Fucking brilliant venue. Convenient for us smokers. I go inside and sit at a seat at one of our two tables.
Ginger and the rest of the board had placed this Louix trophy on my seat. When I read it, I choked and teared up.
We won Louix’s for the piece you worked on as the Prop Master. You have never done it in your life. But I trusted you’d pull it off. And pulling it off you fucking did. You were amazing. Just flat out amazing. Not because you were my wife, no, you know better from me. If you “suck” I’ll tell you. No baby, you fucking rocked that shit. You fucked up here and there, but nothing that you couldn’t fix. And you fixed it as a professional would.
The piece won for Corporate Video something, Original Music, and I think some other category I can’t recall what it was at the minute.
I can see you here working on it.
And here is the piece.
We won for “Video Scripting” on this piece. Thank you Doug. You fucking Rock. This Louix is yours. Love you.
And we won “Corporate Communication” for this piece.
We hanged for a little, some of us headed back to the house, while others stayed behind. I was one of the ones that headed back to the house. I was spent. I needed quite. I couldn’t handle the noise. I needed peace.
Jenn and I Uber’ed back to the house. I was too fucked up to drive and so was Jenn. David ended up driving your car back to the house. We met up with Jenn’s husband Michael at the house.
Sarah, David and not sure who else was going to come later.
The house was okay, nothing really great about it. Fresh paint, minimal decor, all white. Modern with beautiful hardwood floors. 2nd floor has 3 nice-sized bedrooms. A bathroom centers the hallway connecting the bedrooms. I kept hearing the toilet water running. The 3rd floor is a master bedroom loft. That would be my room. I paid for the fucking house. I go first.
I wanted to take a quick power nap at 12:15am, but I choose to write to you instead. I needed to let you know. I couldn’t wait to tell you.
Matt Paul texts me that he’s on his way over. That he needed the address to the After After Party house. I text him the address back. He’s 15 minutes out. Perfect. Take a quick nap.
I climb the narrow steps down. I had my work boots on. I decided not to get all dressed up for the show. “Fuck it. I’m just going to be me.” I underdressed. You would have yelled at me had you and I went together and me looking like that. “You’re an asshole. I can’t believe you’re not even going to look nice. I can’t believe it.” A pause. “Could you please tell me what the fuck are you thinking? I don’t get it.” A breath. “Could you at least put some nice shoes on? I mean for fuck sake look how I’m going to look.” I’m just staring at you with a grin. Not a word. You already know. You accepted it. You accepted that I was going to do what I wanted to do, and no one was going to change my mind. But you tried. Your insults were your effort for me to change my mind.
I let you win some times. “Just make her happy, dumbass. Give this one up.” I’d tell myself and follow suit.
A knock at the door. It’s Matt, he made it. I greet him in, we hug again. Love is in the air.
I pop open a beer for him. I get my Honey Whiskey.
A knock at the door. I walk over and open the door. This you would have loved.
Let me set the scene up first.
Earlier in the day, we were investigating the house as anyone does when they first walk into a vacation home, a room at the hotel, a foreign frontier. Jenn opened the basement door and screamed back to me: “Oh my God, there are rat traps down the steps. Holy shit, the size on those traps. Come look at these Vince.”
I walk over and climb the first couple of steps down. They’re all lining up down the steps. Size of a foot long and hand in width. Wrapped in some film of plastic. We assumed it’s the sticky plastic that rats could escape before the hammer comes down snapping their necks in half. What an awful way to die. Imagine another more intelligent specie setting up human traps that snaps your neck in half. But before you do, we’re going to fucking trap you with this sticky plastic to freak the shit out of you before we kill you.
Isn’t there a more humane way to remove them?
Where was I? Right, the infamous “knock.”
I know I could tell you all about it. But I thought, an exchange between the landlord and myself earlier today will do just enough to explain what took place. I had received a text from the landlord with checkout instructions:
<– Me responding to his checkout instructions message –>
Thanks Frank. We’re all checked out. Tried our best to get it to its original shape when we walked in.
I hate being a bitch about a few things that would better help your tenants have a better experience than we had:
– Would be nice to have toilet paper stocked and available. Or at least an early heads up would have been appropriated.
– We had an interesting experience with a gentleman last night named Mike. He claimed to have seen one of our guests piss on a tree in the park across the street. He said he worked for the park and the Fine would be $300. I asked for his credentials and an ID, he handed me his drivers license. Ha. I politely asked him to write me the Fine and I would gladly pay it with the city.
He threatened to call the police, at which point I advised him to do so and closed the front door.
5 minuets later he barges into the house demanding a resolution. I questioned him how he got into the house, he said he had a key and that he worked for you.
Trying to resolve this issue, I ask him what can we do so he could leave us alone.
“$20 and a beer.” He answers.
“2 beers, no $20. You’re trying to hustle us?” I negotiate back.
My producer hands him $20 and he left.
Not sure what type of operation this was, but totally unprofessional.
Have a great weekend.
Cheers,
Vince
<– Frank –>
That’s totally not acceptable, this is my neighbor mike who has live there his whole life, while he does work for the parks department in no way is he someone who could write a fine. We have been letting mike take care of the trash weekly that is why he had a key. We will no longer be using his services, I wish you would have given me a call, I have no problem refunding the $20 plus for the toilet paper.
<– Me –>
Lmao. Save your $20 and the toilet paper. All good.
We figured out what the odor was, we believe a rat was murdered down the basement last night. There must’ve been a rat massacre down there.
I think you may find one of our peeps stuck in the rat trap going down the basement steps. Just let him loose, he’s harmless.
Cheers,
Vince
<– Frank –>
You guys are amazing, Please if you or anyone in your group find yourselves in Philadelphia again and need accommodations for the night, it’s completely on us we have more than just this place! We have about 15 other places all throughout South Philadelphia and Fishtown. So just let us know and we got you covered!!!
<-End->
I had a cup of coffee late today. I’m wired. But I need to stop writing to you now. I have to go get some rest. Last night I had a rough night sleep.
Good night my sweet.
I love you,
Me