durban bud: July 2009 Archives

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July 31, 2009

Ten Days Later

Bobbie passed away yesterday, July 30th. That wasn't exactly "six to ten weeks," was it?

We were scheduled to visit her for a couple nights in Raleigh this weekend (July 31-Aug 2). She was excited. We were excited. This was our trip to spend time with her 'just in case' she wasn't able to survive until our planned beach getaway in early September. Though she would be confined to a hospice bed in her living room, she wanted us to order take-out and watch DVDs together, just like old times.

She called me on Tuesday to confirm our trip itinerary. I told her we would arrive early afternoon on Friday. She called again to ask, "Do you think Rob would want to watch 'My Bloody Valentine?'" The woman is knocking on death's door and she wants to watch a horror flick. Quintessential Bobbie. I advised her that Rob would probably prefer something more 'light and happy.' She's like, "Then how 'bout 'Friday the 13th?'"

Thursday morning, the day before we were supposed to drive down, I got a call from Bobbie's mom. Bobbie was being rushed to the hospital, and the doctors didn't think she would make it through the night. I told her to tell Bobbie we were on our way.

We called on the road to get an update. She was in and out of consciousness, sometimes talking, but mostly sleeping. Bobbie's husband and mother both made sure she was aware that we were in route to see her.

We were a half-hour outside of Raleigh when Bobbie's husband called my cell. There was no need to go to the hospital anymore.

We pulled into a rest stop to digest the news. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. Six to ten weeks is nowhere near ten days on a calendar. Who predicted this shit? Is Jim Cramer moonlighting in the oncology ward as their death prognosticator?

We had just spoken to her less than two days earlier, and she sounded so alert, happy and excited about our impending visit. She talked to both me and Rob individually that night, ending each call with her usual, "I love you so much."

She truly did. Bobbie was an amazingly loyal advocate of mine throughout our entire friendship, even during my worst moments. No judgments, no expectations, no ego, no pretense, ever. A solid friend until the end. <---- Wow, I just made an Avril Lavigne-ish rhyme.

We stopped by Bobbie's home where a few family members had gathered. The majority of arrangements had been decided in advance, thankfully. It was just a matter of following through.

Bobbie had requested to be cremated and that only a simple outdoor memorial service take place in her honor, as opposed to a wake, funeral or burial service. As I discussed before, she wanted me to create a CD to be played during the service. She and I were going to select the songs together this weekend. Luckily she mentioned a few song titles she wanted played during one of our earlier phone conversations.

I informed her husband that Bobbie had joked about including 'Baby Got Back' on it. He suggested I include it in the mix. He said it would make her laugh, and that she would want people to smile and remember what a crazy fun and unpredictable life she lived.

And I would do anything to make Bobbie laugh one more time.

Posted by durban bud at 10:38 PM

July 29, 2009

Is It Okay For A Dude To Send Flowers To Another Dude?

Recently a friend of mine, let's call him Pedro, was given a flower from a guy he was casually dating. Pedro became flustered and offended that another man would give him a flower. He took the flower, put it down, got pissy and told him not to do it again. Vicious!

I think his reaction has to do with masculinity insecurities deeply rooted in his family's culture. Even though he's gay, I guess receiving a flower from a guy is just too gay or feminine or something. As if getting sodomized on all fours by another dude isn't too gay.

I think it's perfectly fine (and sweet!) to send another guy flowers, providing they're not carnations. Nobody deserves fucking carnations.

Posted by durban bud at 10:40 PM | Comments (20)

July 27, 2009

Ultimate Hot Fudge Cake

We took a road trip to my parents' new home in Bristol, Tennessee last weekend. We took a camera but failed to take many photos.

Downtown Bristol. This side of the street is Tennessee; the other is Virginia. Both sides are ANTI-GAY.

This appears to be the only shot taken of family members. I don't recall Rob snapping this. We were standing on the ANTI-GAY Virginia side. Family is important!

They took us to Shoney's for dinner one night. It's famous for their buffets. Actually all Tennessee restaurants are famous for their buffets. Still, I splurged on this famous creation found at all the Big Boy restaurants. It's tasty but somewhat deadly.

My parents took us along on a shopping trip to Sam's Club. It was Rob's first time. I took a rare photo of him inside this establishment, because it's a bit like spotting the Abominable Snowman. He refused to let me post it. But he WAS there. Don't tell nobody, 'kay?

When we passed by a huge crate of Honey Nut Cheerios, I mentioned to my mom that Rob enjoys those, knowing that she would then want to purchase them for him. And she did. We have Honey Nut Cheerios to last us until Christmas 2012. Let me know if you want to drop by for a bowl. Have you ever noticed after you eat a bowl of Cheerios your urine smells like Cheerios? Awkward!

Speaking of honey, I was watching a PBS documentary about bees and learned that 90 food crops alone depend on bee pollination to survive. The bees are dying out. Scientists think a pesticide caused an AIDS-like virus that has wiped out many bee populations. They also said honey is basically bee barf.

Anyway, my mom took me to get my hair buzzed by her homosexual hairdresser. He runs a small salon with his nephew. She wasn't sure the nephew was gay, but she "assumed." I didn't get a vibe from him. But when he said to me, "You must work out a lot," I wanted to take him from behind, regardless. "Well, y'know, I do TRY to make it to the gym," I beamed. Then, without provocation, and before he started cutting my hair, he turned the clippers on and trimmed my ear hair.

His handy work can be seen in my HILARIOUS photo on this blog at the top right.

My parents have got a beautiful home in Tennessee. I will be visiting often. We hope to make it to DOLLYWOOD in the near future. Rock. On.

Posted by durban bud at 11:44 AM | Comments (15)

July 21, 2009

Bruno Review

I liked it. But I've always been a fan.

Posted by durban bud at 5:01 PM | Comments (2)

July 20, 2009

Bobbie

One of my closest friends just called to tell me how she's been coping after enduring another round of chemo. We were shooting the shit for a few minutes and then she dropped this: "The chemo didn't work. The doctors are giving me six to ten weeks to live -- can I see you before then?"

What am I supposed to say to that? "Not sure. I'll have to consult my calendar to make sure the timing of this doesn't conflict with my fun-filled weekend plans at Rehoboth Beach."

Although I anticipated this outcome based on her recent health deterioration, it still caught me off-guard. We met in our 9th grade Earth Science class and have remained best buds. She's only 38.

I got quiet, put my hand over the phone and kinda broke down, trying hard to not let her hear. I wouldn't recommend doing that. It's a bit like holding in a sneeze. It hurts. When she sensed that I was upset, she said, and I quote, "I'm so sorry."

No, I'm so sorry.

She's remained unbelievably positive since she was diagnosed with melanoma three years ago. I don't know how she does it. She's survived many surgeries and radiation treatments. It spread from her lymph nodes to her brain to her stomach. Throughout it all she is still smart and funny as ever. Steroids have kept her alive but even she'll admit that they have caused her to balloon up like Violet Beauregarde from Charlie & the Chocolate Factory.

She considers herself lucky knowing that she has time to say goodbye to everyone and to be able to make sure her husband and 5-year-old son are all set for life without her. She said, "Most people leave this world unexpectedly without being able to do that." She is right, of course. But it's hard to see it that way.

It just seems so cruel. Her only other sibling, a sister, died from scleroderma at the age of 34.

She asked if I would be willing to "DJ her memorial service."

Awkward!

I'm like, "You want me to take everyone on a musical journey with peak-hour diva anthems and then end with post-peak progressive tribal beats?" She said, "No. I want you to make a CD with songs that remind you of me and play it at the service." Ooooooh. I can do that. "'The Humpty Dance' reminds me of you," I said. "Yes, play that and 'Baby Got Back!'" "People are going to think I'm weird but if that's what you want me to play, I will." I thought she was serious. She later admitted she was only kidding, but then added, "Hmm. Let me think about it. It would be different!"

Bobbie has never been conventional. She was never a fan of marriage, so when she finally decided to get hitched she eloped on February 29th, a leap year. "We only have to celebrate every four years!"

We've been through so much together. So many good times to cherish. We spent a week in the Bahamas when we were 19, and more recently, we traveled to Barcelona and Sitges for a couple weeks.

When she had her son five years ago, she mellowed out and became the most amazing mother. I wrote about our visit to his 4th birthday party last year here. I also wrote about her back when I started this blog.

Interesting factoid: Bobbie's father, Bob Burrus, was an accomplished actor in the Louisville theatre scene back in the 70's and '80's. He made his feature film debut at the age of 70 in an independent film called Tully. He was nominated for an Independent Spirit Award for Best Debut Performance in that role but lost to the chick from My Big Fat Greek Wedding. If you get a chance you should rent the DVD. He was remarkable.

People often express disdain for the poking feature on Facebook, but it's been a great way for Bobbie to keep in touch with me when she hasn't felt well enough to call or write an email. Her pokes had stopped the past couple of weeks, so I knew something was wrong.

Her mother has rented a beach house on the Outer Banks for the first two weeks of September. We are scheduled to go. It will just be her family, her mother, and me and Rob. I'm really hoping we are still able to do this. Quality time is important right about now. It will be like Beaches! If time isn't on our side, we will rush down to see her in Raleigh one last time.

This is all very surreal. I wasn't even sure I should write about it. I called and asked her for permission. She felt it was an easier way to let other friends and acquaintances know. So now they know.

I'll leave you with this quote she has posted on her Facebook page:

This is the voice of experience....Life is too short. Don't waste it in anger or resentment. Enjoy your family and friends. Try to be aware of all the little things in life. You'll smile more...trust me.

Word.

I love you, Bobbie. You're one in a million.

UPDATE: Ten days later.

Posted by durban bud at 12:49 PM | Comments (29)

July 13, 2009

Cooking With Parsley

I was invited to a dinner party last Friday. I tend to decline these invitations because history has proven that a piece of parsley, spinach, basil or black bean will inevitably get caught in one of my front teeth as I'm chatting and laughing at the dinner table, which leads to excruciating pain, embarrassment and sleepless nights for me and shock, horror and pity for the other attendees. It's best for everyone if I avoid those situations.

But last week Rob TOLD me that I was going to a dinner party hosted by one of his former co-workers. I told him I would be unable to attend unless he could guarantee that parsley, spinach, basil or black beans were not included as ingredients in the meal. He said, "You're going! " I was all, "That's mean."

I had previously met the host of the dinner. She is a lovely woman who wanted to introduce her new boyfriend to us that evening. She invited another one of Rob's Australian co-workers whom I had not met and her non-Australian husband to the dinner as well.

The latest hip thing to bring to a dinner party is half a dozen cupcakes, apparently. We stopped at Hello Cupcake (which I highly recommend) on our way to the metro. A woman got on at one of the stops and sat next to Rob, holding half a dozen cupcakes she acquired at ANOTHER cupcake place in Cleveland Park. They're everywhere.

It was a very fancy dinner, fine china and all. I was pleased I didn't wear shorts or a baseball cap this time.

I was happy to meet an Australian. It had been awhile. I mentally prepared myself in advance not to blurt out the words kangaroo, koala, box jelly, The Crocodile Hunter, spider and/or snake bites, Tasmanian devil, Kylie or Vegemite, cuz that would just be ignorant. To my amazement, SHE brought up Vegemite and snake bites, which opened the door for me to mention the rest!

When you're hitched to someone for a long time you tend to rehash the same stories over and over when meeting new people. What do you do? How did you guys meet? Where have you traveled? Who's the top? We've got these answers down to a science; it's like memorizing from a script. The question is asked, I'll look at Rob, he'll nod as if to say, go ahead, it's time to give that monologue. So I do. Though through the years these stories have evolved into events that I'm pretty sure never occurred exactly as described. We seem to add one new twist to the story each time, and it just snowballs through the years into something James Frey might have written, or maybe Durban Bud. But we don't correct each other because it keeps having to tell the same stories fresh and exciting.

So as I was eating dinner, I told one of my sordid tales using jazz hands and being all animated and whatnot. I was on a roll. People seemed interested!

Everyone was delightful. The conversation was robust. The dinner, tasty!

We finished our meal. The non-Australian excused himself to use the bathroom. The host got up to clear the plates. That's when Rob looked at me and motioned to his teeth. NOOOOOOOO! For Christ's sake!!!

It never fails. Next time I'm just gonna floss between each bite. Surely that's less offensive.

To make me feel better we went to see Bruno (my choice!) on Sunday. I'll write about that sooooon.