Raymond Quentin Smuckles 7/2004 - 12/2008
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RAYMOND QUENTIN SMUCKLES 7/2004 - 12/2008 ACHEWOOD Follow Ray Smuckles, in this 55,000-word supplement to his general intellectual methodologies, as he plans his Friday Parties, travels to Australia, mistakenly visits an Oriental hair loss specialist of the wrong variety, grouses about his lackluster sex life, and otherwise exhibits the proclivities of a man with a curious heart, a bottomless appetite, and far too much money. These collected blogs, tottled off in the wee hours during surprisingly common moments of reflection, describe a thoroughly modern creature with both traditional problems and cutting-edge weaknesses. Mr. Smuckles, a co-champion of the Great Outdoor Fight, has explored the depths and -scapes of all major forms of suffering, with the exception of parenthood and loss of a parent. Despite this, or perhaps because of this, or perhaps in order to set such wheels in motion, he can typically be found “blissed to the nines on bongo sauce and lifties,” usually in or near his room. —CTO 1 FRIDAY, JULY 02, 2004 I got to get rid of some Nagels Remember that famous artist from the 80s, "Nagel"? He did all kinds of what was considered at the time "great" art. Anyhow, I just found a bunch of my old Nagel prints down in the garage, stuff that I had on the walls back in my high school days. I need to have a garage sale. I could probably also get rid of those dumb fingerless gloves I bought at The Record Factory when I wanted to be like Julian Lennon. Oh man, I just read about Nagel on the Internet. Apparently he died of a heart attack when he was 39? How do you do that? Probably it was cocaine, but I don't want to say that until I know for sure. I would hate to think of people making up dumb ways that I had died if I had died innocently of congenital heart deformity. 2 FRIDAY, JULY 02, 2004 A new kind of rum! Dang, Chris emailed me about this new kind of rum he found today and I went and picked up a bottle! It's like hell of old pirate rum, not clarified or anything, and it looks almost exactly like Sam Adams but without the bubbles. It's got good nose and it's almost spiced like a cognac. It's aged in old bourbon barrels, the label says, and I ten kinds of believe it. I think what I'm gonna do is decant this action into a plain, clear bottle with no labels and just have it be my swill. Know what I mean? A dude's swill. A man got to have his swill. I think I'm gonna buy a skeleton. 3 FRIDAY, JULY 02, 2004 Nobody around? Damn, where is everybody? It's a friday night and this place is a graveyard! I was thinkin' of spinning some mellow old Police and maybe just keeping low court in the spa for a couple hours, followed by some 9-ball and Manhattans and Comedy Central, but damned if a dude can scare a dude up. I even called Pat, who fortunately wasn't around. Ain't nothin' lamer than hanging out with Pat and only Pat. If it's just the two of us he always insists on trying to teach me various Kanji and the tricks he has for remembering them. Why does the dude figure I need to learn some Chinese. 4 SATURDAY, JULY 03, 2004 Sex in the City DVDs So I ain't never watched too much Sex in the City until I got Netflix and I accidentally ordered the DVDS (thought I was getting something with Holly Body, kind of drunk, didn't read too closely). These discs are pretty funny! There are the main four women who are like a prude, a dork, a hussy and another dork/nerd. They have some problems, but generally there is a cosmo or martini or two to go round. I could definitely hang with ladies like that. I'm gonna try to find some ladies who tell it like it is and like to throw one back, preferably a small group of them. Ray's Sex In The City Night With The Ladies Well, no dice on that “finding a cool group of women, like the Sex and the City women, to hang out with” thing. I’ll tell you how it went down if you really want to know. So this afternoon I flipped through my mental black book and I remembered that Brittney, Amber, and a whole other slew of other mall girls get off work at 8pm on Saturdays and go get outta control at S.C.T!.’s (S.C.T. stands for “Saturday’s Cool Too!” which is kind of in response to that TGI Friday’s chain. From what I’d heard, the founders are doing pretty well with that idea, warming people up to the thought that Saturday can be a pretty good day of the week in addition to Friday). Anyhow, I thought I’d spice myself up with one of my monogrammed shirts, open at the collar, a few splashes of Polo Extreme Sport (kind of a fun weekend cologne), and my new chunky silver chain bracelet before heading over to S.C.T.’s and joining them for their first few rounds, while they were still pretty clear-headed and most likely to be sophisticated and witty. So I was looking pretty dapper, all with my mug just 5 trimmed three days before so it didn’t look too fresh and in fact was in its prime, all with some low-rise boot cut new GAP jeans on, thick black Gucci belt, etc. I was straight up Clooneying. Anyhow, I pulled into that place around 8:20 and none of the girls were there yet. I sort of cooled it and read the kids’ menu and stuff, just waiting in the little entranceway on a bench. It was quieter than I had expected--there were just a few families here and there, finishing up meals with their young kids. That’s cool, they’d clear out soon enough and my brichichas would be scootin’ into booths, filling the air with strong, sassy girl talk. I couldn’t wait. I was gettin’ pretty excited so I went to the bar in the corner and sized myself up for a margarita. Only problem was, there was no bartender. None of the lights behind the bar had even been turned on, and the little credit card slider was off. Man, that blew, so I stopped one of the waitresses and asked if I could get a drink. She said the bar was closed and I was all like “yeah I see that but what can you do for me” and pretty soon she came back with this paper cup that had some marsala cooking wine in it. I sort of sadly gave her a fiver and sat and nipped at the nasty stuff for a while, flipping through the kids’ menu and waitin’ for the ladies. By 9:30 not a single new person had come into the restaurant except for a family on a road trip whose kid had crapped in his pants, so I hit Brittney up on my cell. RAY: Hey, delicious! What you doin’ tonight? BRITTNEY: [loud background party music] Ray? Is that you? R: Some kid just crapped in his pants! (I had had a few more cups of the marsala by then and was kind of addle-brained, I thought it would be really funny to say that) 6 B: What? Ray? R: Seriously! Where you guys at tonight? I’m all up in S.C.T.’s and bringin’ the damage! B: Uh, look, I got to go, Ray. [hangs up] Long story short, S.C.T.’s had lost its liquor license about a year back and no one went there anymore. I must have sounded pretty insane, like I was hanging out blasted at an unpopular family restaurant and calling women to come join me. No wonder she didn’t tell me where she was. At any rate, I’m gonna look on the Internet about how to make a Hot Toddy. I bet I got all the right ingredients. 7 TUESDAY, JULY 06, 2004 The Dude. I try to watch Big Lebowski about a couple times a year and today was my summer cram. I had Conchita set me up a tray of Ketel, cheap-ass Half and Half, Kahlua, and ice, all with a lousy little cheap glass, and I roached up a nice J using my fingernail clippers. I was set. I even wore this old pair of sunglasses that I found in the street, and a robe that I lifted from that B-list Ritz-Carlton in Scottsdale. Man, I just had the greatest old time. Big Lebowski is so funny. I had such a great time. 8 TUESDAY, JULY 06, 2004 What a nice afternoon. It is such a great day around here. It is completely sunny with a nice breeze, the grass was just mowed and edged so it is all beautiful and perfect, and the spa is bubbling away all cheerily to itself. I'm still wearing that Ritz Carlton robe, which is keeping me at just the perfect temperature. I had some Pappardelle con Gamberoni from Luigi's for lunch, and it didn't sit too heavy at all. I'm having a cold Amstel Light right now and am just ten kinds of blissed.