My friends ARE more important than my work - REALLY.

Quite a while ago I was tagged with a request to tell a little something about a good friend of mine on his blog. Now, I've been REALLY crazily busy at work and the holidays make my head implode, so I was really ashamed that I did not even realize I had been tagged until this past Monday (nigh on a two weeks since I was originally tagged). This friend was none other than MyBigStupidHero. I posted my brief bit of intimate information in the comments of his post, however I have since been riddled with guilt at the fact that the piddly ass every day crap in my life had reduced me to ignoring my friends' ramblings. I have spent the last little bit of my lunch poking around the interweb catching up with my friend's lives. I am making myself get off my ass and spend some time with them also. Tonight I am going over to my friend Crystal's house and playing dress up with her 3 1/2 year old - Emily. I even bought sparkly little bindis for her to wear since she liked mine so much the last time we were out. ANYWAY... the point of this long diatribe is that I've let my life eclipse MY LIFE. And I'm done. No more!

I am including in this post my observations on MyBigStupidHero as well as two of my favorite memories of him. Here they are - Nothing fancy, just me recalling somethings that still make me smile and/or cringe:

Observations on my friend Big Stupid Tommy:

Tommy IS a giant.
Should it ever come down to Tommy in his underwear throwing boulders from a hilltop versus villagers with torches and pitchforks Tommy would win. Hands down. Every time.

Tommy is NOT stupid.
Tommy is probably the smartest man I know.
He is intelligent, well read, and a joy to talk with.

Now for some quirks which always make me smile:
Upon being handed a book Tommy will open it up and smell it.
Tommy HATES red licorice.
Tommy dives into water like a grizzly bear.
Tommy performs a very nice underwater handstand.
Tommy has slept sitting upright in a chair.
Tommy does not use straws.
Tommy’s kill command is “Fennel.”
Tommy will tolerate Diane and myself when anyone else would run away screaming with bleeding ear drums or collapse into a catatonic stupor.
And though this will undoubtedly embarrass him… I have always thought that with his kind heart, wonderful wit, boundless loyalty, and quiet demeanor he has an air of the romantic hero about him.

My friend Tommy.
I took way too long to find out I’d been tagged with this request to share a little of my insight into the Big Stupid which is Tommy. I apologize for the delay. I will attempt to make amends by sharing things that others may not know about our mutual friend. For those of you who have never had the pleasure of meeting the Tommy in person let me say Big Stupid Tommy is an impressive man. He stands well over 6’ tall and is a very reassuring presence to have on your side in dark alleys or impromptu wrestling matches. I would like to share two stories to illustrate this fact and illuminate a little of the personality which is Big Stupid Tommy:

One time, long ago on a very drunken night at a Con in Atlanta (I don’t remember which one) our good friend Tommy had paid for the hotel room with his credit card and then we had all pitched in cash to repay him. Sometime during the evening it came to our attention from the front desk that our room had to pay a very small amount either to make a phone call or to pay for a call or something… Anyway, Thomas explains politely over the phone that they have his credit card information on file, just add this expense to the bill. The dumbass at the front desk says “We can’t do that.” Thomas tries gallantly to explain the concept of room billing and the magical properties of credit cards, but alas the front desk insists that cash in an amount of less than $3.00 is required of our Big Stupid friend. Thomas then proceeds to gather the exact amount required in the form of loose change procured from the various inhabitants of our room. Our esteemed friend then pours all the change into a sock (yes my friends - a sock, which may or may not have been clean) and ventures down to the front desk to pay his fee. I, of course am dying to see what happens and request to go with him. He, being ever the gentleman, allows me to accompany him, even though I am thoroughly intoxicated and a bit of a hindrance at this point. We arrive at the front desk and to my delight Thomas dumps the change out of the mens sports sock and onto the counter in front of the stunned clerk. I was too delighted by this in my inebriated state to notice all the nuances that occurred, but I do remember the look of embarrassed horror and slight fear on the desk clerk. I believe there had to be another clerk brought from the backroom and it seems to my memory that Tommy loomed over the counter until they had counted every last smelly penny and nickel. He then turned and regally departed for the elevator. I am loving every moment of this spectacle to the point I believe I even bounced up and down and clapped my hands (I am known to do this when drunk) However, when the elevator reaches our floor and the doors swing open they reveal to my utter horror that we are BETWEEN floors! Now it wasn’t like the hallway floor was beyond our reach or that we could see duct work and wiring, but there was distinctly a large amount of space that one should NOT be able to see when one arrives at their floor. I froze. I was terrified. Every movie I’ve ever seen that involved elevators flashed through my drunken mind. I turn stuttering to my Big Stupid Hero. He doesn’t not let me down. He simply says “Yeah, I know. That’s weird, let’s just get out.” I’m not sure, but I think I made him hold my hand as I stepped UP into the hotel hallway. Now granted, I was drunk, and I am me, so things seem more drastic than they are sometimes, but that is one of the many times I have been thankful to have Thomas as my friend, by my side.

Now for the flip side of having Big Stupid Tommy as a personal friend:

Once, long ago, on a summer afternoon at my place of employment our hero Thomas was busy doing some freelance work (I think he was helping me clean out the storage room - for a fee) Now on this particular day there were two small kittens running amuck in our office. (Don’t ask. It’s enough to know that there were two small kittens.) We turned our backs for a few minutes and found that one of the little furballs had squeezed back behind the large metal heat and air contraption in the corner of the room. I could see it. I could touch it with my fingertips. I went to pull the little booger out and realized to my sickening horror that my arm was stuck. Now, you have to realize this all happened very quickly… My arm is pinned behind a huge piece of metal work. I am sitting crouched on the floor panicking. I look up and see my Big Stupid Hero standing over me looking quizzical. I reach my arm out towards him and say “Help me! I’m stuck!” Then in a flash I see Thomas as a looming giant, his large hand reaching towards me ready to swallow my shaking fingers in his vice-like grip. I am now frantic. All I can picture is one good tug from him popping my arm right off my shoulder. I can actually see him standing above me puzzledly looking at my disembodied arm held in front of him as I scream in pain and then faint dead away. Suddenly I am giggling up at him and stammering “No! No! It’s alright! I’ll get out. Really. Don’t touch me!” I manage to free myself clumsily and after great frantic effort, but that feeling of absolute panic and vulnerability still creeps into my nightmares some nights.