By the Light of the Moon, He's a Frenchman for the Night

That quote above is from a Jimmy Buffett song off the 1994 Fruitcakes album (Track title, "Frenchman for the Night", and yeah, I'm a huge Parrothead. Come at me.). It's also from the legendary night where I first met my friend Matt. Hopefully it's 100% accurate, but if it's not it's still damn close. I've told this story thousands of times and some things may have been embellished.

It was a weeknight, probably a Tuesday or so, that's when we used to go to Buffalo Wild Wings. I hopped in my 1997 Chevy Blazer, called Dave and was all like "Hey man, I'm on my way to the Condo." He probably said something like "Cool Ski-Doo Ninja." (Haha, what?) and I stomped the gas pedal through the floor. That Blazer used to roar, loud, every last ounce of that 4.3 Liter Vortec V6 rumbling, shaking, and roaring down 193 towards College Park as I watched the gas gauge steadily tick down. Way off topic.

So yeah, I get to the Condo, call Dave and he comes down to let me in. I'm pretty sure this was the point where he told me we had a special guest, Dave's friend from birth, Matt. It might not be, but meh. Either way, I was going to meet him that night.

So yeah, I get upstairs, meet Matt, sit around on the couches hanging out for a bit, then we roll off to Buffalo Wild Wings for dinner. Now, there's one part of all this I forgot. We were going to meet me and Dave's co-workers at dinner, Megan and Matt. Well, naming two Matts in the story will get confusing, so we'll call Matt II SpaceCadet (Thanks, E. She nicknamed him that because "His ears are so big you can see them from space."). Megan and SpaceCadet didn't have the best track record of showing up to places on time, but this night we actually did something about it.

Practical jokes are fun, elaboarte plans are even more fun, or at least they are to me, a twelve year old trapped in a twenty-one year olds body, So I get a text from Megan, and basically she says they're going to be running late. Real late. So Matt, Dave and I hatched a plan. Now neither Megan nor SpaceCadet had ever met Matt, and we decided as a threesome of immature goofy "young adults" decided to do like the French and "Gâchis avec leurs chefs parce qu'ils n'étaient pas très intelligents.", also known as "Mess with their heads cuz they ain't too smart."

And just like that, French foreign exchange student Herve Benoit was born. "By the light of the moon, he's a Frenchman for the night, by the light of the moon, it'll be alright"...

So yeah, the ground work was set. Did Matt know any French? Maybe a little, but we all knew Megan and SpaceCadet didn't, so we could throw a few random words in there and make everything Kosher. From there we ironed out details, Herve was from Nice, which is in South Eastern France. How did he know Dave? Well, Herve's mother and Dave's mother had been pen pals (I wanna say we decided they were college roommates for some reason?) and when the foreign exchange program opened up, Herve came to America to learn from a wise man named David.

And just like that, we waited for Matt and Megan to show up. I was worried about slipping up and laughing, but luckily we all held it together and sold it. As far as individual memories from what Matt did were air-masturbating and drawing a picture of him suffocating Dave with a pillow, a picture I'm proud to say that I still own. I dunno what else to really say about the dinner, other than the fact that Megan and SpaceCadet bought it hook, line, and sinker.

Are you wondering if there were any problems? Any slip ups? No. We came close, but Dave helped Matt count out "American dollars" from his wallet...even though his MARYLAND (Remember your Maryland license Matt? Love ya Chief haha,) drivers license was exposed the whole time. The best part of the night however may have been when we piled into Dave's car (Matt, Dave, and I) and had to keep our composure till Megan and SpaceCadet drove off. Then we all busted out laughing, like gut busting, ab crunching, knee slapping bellows of laughter. I'm pretty sure I cried.

So now fast forward a few months, or maybe weeks. I dunno, I wish I had written all this down when it happened because then I'd have it all fresh in my brain. Damnit. But anyways, so we all get together for Dave's birthday at Hard Times for what me and my current idol Matt had planned as the Herve/Megan & SpaceCadet reunion. We were excited, I had told Megan that Herve would be there and that he had "asked" about them, at which point Megan told me she had Googled (Is Google a proper noun? Does it need to be capitalized?) Nice and planned to visit Herve....

We. Had. Them. Fooled.

Then Dave leans across the table and tells them "Hey Megan and SpaceCadet, this is my friend Matt. He's not French, he's from SP, and went to school with SpaceCadet." or something to that effect and me and Matt were furious. We were ready to keep the charade going, and then it was over because we let someone else have control...

So in honor of Matt's birthday and the (Unoffical) Herve Benoit Anniversary, I present this story. 

Happy Birthday buddy, let's do fifty.

Friend's Who "Love" Me...Or Don't...

I know this my come as a whopping surprise to many of you, but I have friends. I know right? Crazy stuff right there. Well, maybe they're not friends, but they're people who tolerate me and invite me places so that counts right?

I'm just kidding, I have friends. Most of them from Anne Arundel County and I have absolutely no idea how that happened, but somehow it did and I still haven't been invited to their country clubs, private jets, or Gatsby-esqe parties. What the hell "friends"? What the hell.

But yeah, I like to write (hence this crappy blog) and on occasion I'll write my friends letters or emails just cuz I'm bored or I'll make them crappy collages of crayon-drawn pictures of us doing stuff. Really crappy looking. Terrible, the better gift would have been the empty frame.

All that self hatred aside, on occasion, my friends will write/email/make something for me in return. I'm gonna show one of my personal favorites from my best friend on the face of this Earth, Kelly. Enjoy it, God knows I do every time I read it.

By the way, she's a freak. That's why it's so weird. Just kidding.

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Dear {Top Secret Nickname},
I just wanted to say thank you for a few things, so I thought I should express my gratitude by putting it down on paper so you can remember it forever .
First, I just want to thank you for being awesome.
A- almost as awesome as watching paint dry while sitting on a seat covered with shards of glass when it's raining outside, and then a monkey comes along and pokes you in the eye with a sharp stick. And then you fall on the shards of glass and have to get 165 stitches, and years later find out that you have lead poisoning from the pain n the wall. And that tick gave you lyme disease.
W- would you please shower every once in awhile? It's getting kinda gross.
E- exceptionally nonchalant about showering.
S- smelly, and not in a good way (probably has to do with all that not-showering).
O- offends 4 out of my 5 senses; just sometimes you smell so bad I can feel it.
M- mentally exhausting to be around (especially when you don't shower).
E- emotional like a tween who hasn't had a shower in a week.
Second, I'd like to thank you for being awesome:
A- awful, just awful.
W- way you make me want to vomit.
E- extremely large head.
S- softball player.
O- optical illusion, you are not.
M- my dreamboat, NOT!
E- exceptionally clean (seriously, who takes that many showers?).
Third, dayum son. Thank you for being so ridiculously good looking:
H- homey, you so fine.
A- all the ladies frock to your crock...pot that is. We hear you're a good cook.
S- snookums, can I get your number?
W- wow, check out them sweet cheeks.
A- are those real?
R- Ripped to the core.
T- twinkle toes, just like the twinkle in your eyes.
S- save some sugar for me.

And now for the last, but certainly not least, reason I want to thank you. Thanks for speaking without a lisp:
N- nothrils on your nothe (nostrils on your nose).
O- only Thamothy/ThamWow I know (Only Samothy/SamWow I know).
L- livths in a houth (lives in a house).
I- ith thooo thmart (is sooo smart).
T- things thongs (sings songs).
H- hath to wear glathes (has to wear glasses).
P- pethky prithoners with pethts prante on punpkinthhh.
Well, there you have it. Thanks again.

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Well, that's what she wrote me. Sounds like a hater but that's the relationship we have, we just rag on each other all in good fun.

If you're wondering how this came about, I joked with her about writing me a letter about "How awesome I am, how awesome I am, and how good looking I am." and she added the stuff about the lisp.