Well, what have we learned from yesterday’s little excursion into the culinary world?
I shouldn’t really complain. I’m not in this for the women; that’s why I moonlight as a pimp. I need to hone my Google skills and find a “Commander Foley Lust Command” website somewhere, and if it doesn’t exist, I’d probably pay good money to have someone start it.
A little history of the McGee/Foley saga is in order, I believe. You sitting back? Comfy? Got your cookies? Good.
Tim and I met in 1995 in a class called “Renaissance Drama”. HUZZAH! Simultaneously, Tim was directing a production of “Hamlet” on campus. I actually tried out for this show, being the Shakespeare aficionado that I am. Alas, I had that minor “complete lack of acting talent” Achilles heel, so that didn’t pan out, but they did need a lighting designer. I was promised “hot theatre party action” if I did it. I wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but it was a heckuva lot better than what I was then currently doing; ie, nothing.
So, we did the show, it went over well, had to this day the best initial Polonius/Ophelia scene I’ve ever scene among other choice moments, and boom, off to the races. I designed two of Tim’s next three shows. We formed, along with others, a sort of theatre cabal that held semi-private meetings in smoky Pizzeria Uno’s basements after 10 pm where the appetizers were free and the strippers were plentiful. OK, the appetizer part is true…
Tim and I also helped kickstart, with the help of many people currently reading, a Unix-based newsgroup centered around, nominally, campus theatre. But, just like the comments pages here, the threads had a life of their own. 150-message threads about frickin’ T-shirts. People would meet online on threads and then meet in real-life. (I’m serious, Yahoo Personals owes me some mad royalties, yo.) We’d host parties that were announced online. Why?
We went to HARVARD, people. GEEKS R US. Why are you surprised?
Now, Tim and I were good friends through all this. Weren’t the best of friends yet; we’d do the occasional show, occasional excursion to Uno’s, biweekly bison hunting expeditions…you know, typical college stuff. We ended up living together for two years, though, and that’s when most of the bondage started. And man, that came out so wrong.
It’s a good thing Tim and I share largely the same brain, since we share almost nothing else. He’s the only guy I know I can talk to about the merits of the Red Sox bullpen, Star Wars, and Alex Ross all while watching “Tomcats” and finishing each other’s mockery. We’ll quote the Sports Guy, Eddie Izzard, and MST3K until the cows come home, and sometimes until they’ve left again.
A lot of the time, though, I was the Oscar to his Felix in our own version of “The Odd Couple”. Tim is what some people call “moral”. “Clean”. “Respectful”. He has a “strong religious faith”. He “bathes”. He “doesn’t kick puppies”.
Makes me sick, really.
I mean, far from the popular opinion, I’m not the scourge of Western civilization, but I have to admit I took great delight in doing or saying things that would tweak his moral compass just slightly and yield a version of The Rock’s People’s Eyebrow. Always comedy value to be found there. Sometimes I’d have to dig deep, but as Tim can attest, I always came through when given the chance to say the most largely inappropriate thing possible just to annoy him.
I’m off to see the Commander this weekend. We’re going to live it up, so much as one can live it up while working around his two performances and multiple auditions. I could report that since he moved to Jersey City two years ago, we’ve lost touch, that somehow the friendship’s waned, but I’m happy to say that isn’t the case. He’s been one of the few constants in my Sgt. Pepper-esque snapshot of friends. And I like it that way.
I’d love to report I begrudge him his virtual harem on here, but really, nuttin’ but love (in a non-prison sorta way) for my boy Tim. I’d ask you ladies to show your love, but God knows you don’t need my encouragement. Huzzah!