Saturday, June 18, 2005
The Search For Juicy Fruit and Big Bamboo
So the other day, The Fetching Mrs. Crime Dog and I got a very nice email invitation to a pool party. The invite was signed "Juicy Fruit and Big Bamboo." Now, I have to admit, having only been an AZPHC Club member for a little over a year, I don't have all the nicknames down just yet. My first question was "Who the Hell is Juicy Fruit and Big Bamboo?" Not in the mood to search my ever-shrinking memory at that moment, I intentionally procrastinated that particular piece of research for a later date. The party sounded like fun, TFMCD wanted to go, so I marked it on my calendar.
Then promptly forgot about it. As usual.
Oh, it popped into my cranium once in a while over the next few weeks, so I didn't forget the party. I just forgot to RSVP "Juicy Fruit" or "Big Bamboo."
So, today's the day, right? We have a lunch engagement with The Fetching Bo and Joe E, so I'm thinking I'd better get the directions to this shindig before I leave the kennel. I pop back into the email, noting that it says "RSVP by June 15" to get directions. Shit!
Now I'm going to have to call, apologize for not providing an RSVP, grovel a little, and see if we can still come.
But then, who the hell is "Juicy Fruit" and "Big Bamboo?" So I check the email header, get the real name, and, oh of course, it's Bob and Judy, right? Gotta be. But wait a minute.....he's not "Big Bamboo"......he's "Boob." That's all I've ever called him.
Cripes! What if there's another "Martin." What if I'm wrong? What if I call Bob and Judy and they say "Crime Dog, just what the fuck are you babbling about?"
(I've never been good with names, you see. Faces? Oh yeah, no problem. Names are another matter.)
I'm certain it's them, almost as certain as I am that I will fuck this up if I jump in and make the call. See, I'm a professional investigator. That's what I do. I'm highly trained to verify all information, assume nothing, and deny everything. And I'm good at it. So what do I do? What anybody in his right mind would do. I dial 411. In this case, 411 being Arizona Cheesehead.
"Hey, Cheesehead, I need to talk privately."
Good thing I'm alone then.
Thus off to such a great start, I babble nonsensically for a minute or so, trying to paint a picture of myself as not being a complete idiot over this. It doesn't work. Cheesehead is too smart for that. She sees right through me.
It's Bob and Judy, you dork.
More babbling on my part. "Keep this between us, I don't want to look stupid."
Too late. That ship has sailed, Crime Dog.
I called Boob (Just who the fuck is "Big Bamboo," anyway?) and got no answer. Then I went and found The Fetching Mrs Crime Dog, and started to tell her the whole thing. I had just gotten got to the "Juicy Fruit" part when she says "That's Bob and Judy, you dumbass."
So, I sat down to publish all this. Just a matter of time before everybody knows anyway. The Coconut Telegraph is waaaaay too efficient.
Bob, Judy: Love you guys. Sorrry! Can you fit us in?
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Then promptly forgot about it. As usual.
Oh, it popped into my cranium once in a while over the next few weeks, so I didn't forget the party. I just forgot to RSVP "Juicy Fruit" or "Big Bamboo."
So, today's the day, right? We have a lunch engagement with The Fetching Bo and Joe E, so I'm thinking I'd better get the directions to this shindig before I leave the kennel. I pop back into the email, noting that it says "RSVP by June 15" to get directions. Shit!
Now I'm going to have to call, apologize for not providing an RSVP, grovel a little, and see if we can still come.
But then, who the hell is "Juicy Fruit" and "Big Bamboo?" So I check the email header, get the real name, and, oh of course, it's Bob and Judy, right? Gotta be. But wait a minute.....he's not "Big Bamboo"......he's "Boob." That's all I've ever called him.
Cripes! What if there's another "Martin." What if I'm wrong? What if I call Bob and Judy and they say "Crime Dog, just what the fuck are you babbling about?"
(I've never been good with names, you see. Faces? Oh yeah, no problem. Names are another matter.)
I'm certain it's them, almost as certain as I am that I will fuck this up if I jump in and make the call. See, I'm a professional investigator. That's what I do. I'm highly trained to verify all information, assume nothing, and deny everything. And I'm good at it. So what do I do? What anybody in his right mind would do. I dial 411. In this case, 411 being Arizona Cheesehead.
"Hey, Cheesehead, I need to talk privately."
Good thing I'm alone then.
Thus off to such a great start, I babble nonsensically for a minute or so, trying to paint a picture of myself as not being a complete idiot over this. It doesn't work. Cheesehead is too smart for that. She sees right through me.
It's Bob and Judy, you dork.
More babbling on my part. "Keep this between us, I don't want to look stupid."
Too late. That ship has sailed, Crime Dog.
I called Boob (Just who the fuck is "Big Bamboo," anyway?) and got no answer. Then I went and found The Fetching Mrs Crime Dog, and started to tell her the whole thing. I had just gotten got to the "Juicy Fruit" part when she says "That's Bob and Judy, you dumbass."
So, I sat down to publish all this. Just a matter of time before everybody knows anyway. The Coconut Telegraph is waaaaay too efficient.
Bob, Judy: Love you guys. Sorrry! Can you fit us in?
