missing ham

I’ll never forget the afternoon I met Buc. I was at the corner of the bar nursing the burns on my face from the long day of testing air bags at the Volvo factory.

I had just dropped out of the tenth grade and the world was my oyster… or so I thought…

It was the racket of the trash cans being knocked over that made me look up from my ouzo and seven… In stumbled in this lumberjack of a man with multiple piecing, full-sleeve tattoos and a smart low-cut top and canary yellow stretch pants.

“phhhuckoff gimmie a vodka and olive juice” he growled at the bartender.

I had to know this beautiful stranger so I shimmied across the bar, without leaving my barstool, and introduced myself.

The stranger peered at me through his one good eye and said..

“Hi.. My name’s Buc… Ya know.. It rhymes with fire engine.”

We chatted for a little while before deciding to leave the bar and scratch our respected itches… While hailing the cab he confided that he can only achieve orgasms in laundromats.

“Where to buddy” – the nice cabby of middle-eastern origin asked..

“Soap-n-Go on Washington and 8th please”

Of course.. this is complete bullshit… I’ve never met Andy… (a.k.a. buc, a.k.a. thefatrooster). But that didn’t stop him from creating, bar-none, the coolest birthday present I received this year. (if not the coolest of all 33 birthdays).

I’ve been dropping hints that I’d love one of his paintings – but only half-heartedly.. I mean – why in the hell would some guy who I’ve never met want to create a piece of art for me? I mean that’s right up there on the intimacy list with not pulling out.

So… I’m now the humbled owner of a Buc original.

To add to the personal flattery, its subject / theme, I assume, is based on a previous entry I made in this thing you all think is a blog.

I’m not blogging – urr.. I mean – if I was – it would have taken me three days to watch the light to find the perfect time of day to shoot the painting and figure out how to express my gratitude.