A Birthday Rulzng!

It was one of the greatest rulzngs of all time. I was still living in the Bay Area, playing in a couple bands, and close buddy Nick had requested a larger-than-life-sized poster of me (and an adorable Jack Russell Terrier, Rufus) to adorn the living room of his West LA apartment, which he shared with long-time friend Chuck.

Any acquaintance (or otherwise nefarious character) that chanced upon their apartment in that 2 year span was graced with my presence...a stagnant, yet striking image that was virtually the only decoration in the room; just about all one noticed when taking a gander about their living quarters.

Also, Chuck--a true patriot--had decorated the poster with small American flags.

It was during this period of my physical absence--but photographic omnipresence--that Chuck's girlfriend, Ms. Frazier, turned 24--and turned me into a legend.

Her birthday was celebrated at the aforementioned apartment, with a myriad of pictures to commemorate the event--from 3rd-degree acquaintances, no less. The universe had conspired to grant me a rulzng sicker than I could have ever imagined--a rulzng I didn't even have to work for...

It was the great mediator Winston Churchill who once said, "Why stand, when you can sit?"

Well, friends, on this anniversary of said rulzng, a day Ms. Frazier turns one year older, I say to you this: "Why rulz a photo, when a photo of you can rulz a photo?"

Placement: (4/5)
Expression: (5/5)
Discretion: (5/5)
Unfamiliarity: (4/5)
Quality: (3/5)

Months passed, and the poster-size photo had to be taken down from their living room. It was located within the 120" projection area of Chuck's new HD projector...plus, having to look at my chapped lips made New Roommate Greg "very unhappy, mother..."

And so, an era has come and gone...Ms. Frazier is now a quarter of a century old, Chuck is living in a quarter of my single-room apartment next door, Nick is moving a quarter-way across town to WeHo, and Greg still writes seditious blog posts about us.

But our story is written in the cavalcades of time, chronicled by our memories, and beset by our trials and tribulations. And hopefully, when we all look back at the photographs of our young lives, we will be wistful; grasping at each glimpse of happiness and joy we experienced, searching the picture of our youth for something more, something we could have hoped to become. And then my face will be rulzng the fuck out of that picture.