Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Inspiration strikes.

I'm not exactly sure why, but tonight while I was reading Liam his bedtime stories, Bill decided to write about all the Steves he's ever known. (If you haven't met my husband, this will seem very strange. If you have, it will seem totally normal.) It cracked me up so much I told him he should start a blog just so he could share it. Then I remembered that he has much bigger fish to fry what with his law school applications and all. So, I'm posting it for him. It's almost entirely un-edited (sometimes I just can't help myself) and a rather nice glimpse into the fascinating mind of my better half. Here goes...

The Importance of Being Steve

First Steve

Kid in my first grade class. He was Asian. Once he brought a sand dollar to school for show and tell. When I shook it I could hear that there were little hard somethings inside. I asked what they were and thankfully Steve knew. He told me that they were bones but when he said it, in his childish tongue with Asian accent, it souned like “birds.” That fucked with me for a long time.
I remember his father threw him in their pool at his birthday party. Steve wasn’t amused. In fact, he cried. What a dickhead dad.

Steve Doi-Doi

Second grade. Doi-Doi Steve lived at the Holiday Inn a few blocks from my school. Naturally I believed his father owned the Holiday Inn and he was incredibly rich. You know, if you own a hotel you might as well live in it. I'm only realizing now that he probably just lived in a motel. Steve created a green Martian-like character called a Doi-Doi. He would draw these incredible Doi-Doi comics everywhere and was well liked for his sense of humor and Doi-Doi comic book prowess.

A United Airlines plane crashed in the field across the street from his father’s hotel. Steve and his family were safely asleep inside The Holiday Inn but the crash was literally 100 feet from the lobby. Everyone died in the crash and there were reports of people sneaking into the field at night, stealing watches off the scattered body parts.

Tuttle

I didn’t know Steve Tuttle but he liked mini-trucks, bumpin’ car stereos, and turtlenecks. He seemed like a nice person though, in my social circle, his surname became a sarcastic expression for “cool.” Or literally, because it was sarcastic, “not cool.” So if we saw a dude with a gold cross hanging from a gold chain worn outside say, a blue turtleneck…yeah, hella tuttle.

The Big Guy

Maggie and I were getting our SCUBA certification in Monterray when up the beach walks a middle-aged man asking me, “hey, where’s the big guy?” Now, I had no idea who this man was. I mean, sure we were wearing tight fitting SCUBA hoods that make peripheral vision a joke, but still I was certain I'd never met this cat. I laughed and replied, “who’s ‘the big guy’?” He must have realized that he mistook me for someone else because he just awkwardly answered, “Steve”. I laughed an equally awkward laugh. This made Maggie laugh and she makes fun of me for it to this day. It’s a nice little shared memory.

A couple of hours later Maggie almost drowned while uncontrollably laughing and rolling in a low tide while I stood above her saying, “get up”. She’s still with me.

Steamboat

My best friend through my 20’s. He probably existed before we met but I like to think I discovered him at Café Royale in his silky blue shirts and long, unruly hair. He was playing covers with his uncle or something (sidenote: it seems like this Steve has a million uncles who all play music). He looked a lot like Bernard Butler so I wanted him to play in my band. I took him to Corrigan’s Pub and told him that he could play in the best band in the world if he wanted; I just had to convince our other guitar player. I put Neil (the other guitar player) on the spot and invited Steve into the band that night. Asking someone to join your band is fucking huge, I don’t care who you are.

This Steve and I became super close by writing songs together, getting drunk off 32 ounce bottles of Miller High Life (cheaper than 40s even), and playing shows. Twice we studied together at UNR but he was too smart to teach me algebra and I couldn’t be fucked to learn it.
I saw him get punched once at this casino. We were walking out and this guy Kevin hit him. It was stupid but it stands out.

Steve got his long, unruly hair cut for my wedding.

Jacobs

When my band acrylic first formed this Steve would come to all of our shows and dance. He seemed wealthy and cool. Sure he had long hair and questionable friends but he still seemed to have his shit together. I went to a party at his house when I was 20. It was cool because he introduced me to his LA friends as “the singer of acrylic” which is who I wanted to be. I took my friend Jake and his girlfriend, Maggie. Yep, the same Maggie I’m married to now. She was my ex-girlfriend at the time. Writing this makes me feel queasy about how small our social circle was. Anyway, we went to his house and Steve kissed Maggie. She kinda kissed anyone at the time so it wasn’t a huge shock. Plus, I wasn’t dating her so I didn’t really care. The thing is Steve was like 40 and Maggie was 20, which is wild. We hung out and drank his booze and had a good time (apart from the Maggie incident). Here’s the kicker, Steve called Maggie and broke up with her a few days later. I mean, they weren’t dating but he still broke up with her. Awesome. This memory could be wrong but it’s funny this way.

This Steve asked me if he could manage my band when I was about 22. He created some flyer art for us, business cards (kinda weird for an “indie” band), and a lot of animosity between band mates. As a manager he dealt with our money. We didn’t have a fucking clue about money but we were stupid enough to believe money had nothing to do with the band, even though we gladly took it after every show. Tough to explain.

This Steve also had a house with an indoor pool. After shows we would take the party to his house for “afterburners” and swim and drink all night. Steve would crank Red House Painters, we’d slip from the marble into the warm pool, and “soak”. It was absolutely beautiful, though someone once told me a child was murdered in the pool area of the house many years before. That is fucked up but, the thing is, if I could float in that pool after a show, drunk, with Mark Kozelek’s voice in my ears, and someone came along and murdered me…well, I’d be pretty happy.

I have a clear memory of Steve wearing nothing but leather pants and a cowboy hat making an omlette with one hand with a shotgun in his other hand.

* Maggie insists that she didn’t kiss Steve. She’s right. Steve’s friend was the culprit. His name I can never remember but I stayed with him once in LA, on Robertson Street. He’s a strange guy but in an “I’m trying to be strange” way. He was obsessed with hand crème. I mean, it’s important but why obsess? His name was James. It just hit me. Maggie says she thought he was gay, which must have been an awkward thought while kissing.

(PS - I did NOT kiss everyone at the time. C'mon!)

Neighbor

This Steve walked over and introduced himself shortly after we moved to Nashville. He said, “jump in the car and I’ll give you a tour.” Who does that? I mean, how cool is that? He then drove us around the neighborhood telling us about our new digs. He proceeded to introduce us to Sunny. Sunny then introduced us to Robin and Anna. Robin introduced us to Guy and Bieke. Anna introduced us to Richie, Jeremy, and Gwyn. From that moment we had friends in Nashville.

I can’t drink with the Steve. I tried once but he drank me under the table in seconds. He casually drinks like I would drink if I was trying to die by alcohol poisoning. I think he may have a problem, but in a “not yet a problem in fact still laughable” way.

He thinks his dog was poisoned but I suspect insecticide.

Burns

This Steve, the latest Steve, has become a good friend to my son Liam. This Steve has helped me with the shock of having a child. He also helps baby-sit Liam if Maggie is out and I’m watching him but I have to pee or make dinner or get a beer or whatever. This Steve is the original Blue’s Clues Steve. He’s an angel. Sure he only exists on TV and Liam likes him more than me at times (I like to think that is a phase) but he is still a hell of a guy.

The man, the myth, the very funny husband!

3 comments:

Neil Edwards said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Courtney said...

teheehee! Funny boy!

Emery Jo said...

This. is. amazing.