i love Jonathan Horrell. he's a radiant beam of sunshine that sets my day alight. this man has made me smile SO MUCH in the short while we've been spending SO MUCH time together that i think he should dig deep and sponsor me botox.
for the last two weeks Jonathan's been in his version of 'the ZONE'. he'd been repeating this OVER and OVER to me and he was beginning to sound like a the tune on an ice-cream truck. to Jonathan 'the Zone' meant that he had STOPPED drinking, STARTED dieting and was about to change the reality of my gym experience as i knew it. i was cool with that. i'd go along with it and observe this space. either way i didn't mind, i wasn't in Jonathan's 'Zone'. i was in a zone of my own. we'll call it 'ZONE REALITY' as a working title for now.
yesterday he walked through my door using this as his opening statement: "I FEEL LIKE A BEER!"
i smirked. but told him to go ahead and have one. there was beer in my fridge left over from Wendy's birthday party.
ooo no no he wasn't going to do THAT he responded he was in 'the Zone' didn't i KNOW that by now?! and he whisked me off to the beach (which i have to add is always really great with him).
anyway in between his usual 'Basil Green' style bitching and moaning - which on HIM however is totally cute and very funny - he kept steering our conversation toward achieving the balance between having JUST ONE DRINK and getting TOTALLY shit faced. he'd now stumbled into a world where i'd reigned as queen - no scratch that - HIGH PRIESTESS, for many years.
therefore, for all of my People, i feel an obligation to part with a little factoid about this world's unusual numerical sequence: it does not include the number '1'. (unless one breaks it down into fractions which make up one EPIC event.)
he agreed he said he KNEW this.
i asked him what exactly was the point of ever having ONE drink? why would anyone do this? you drink to get hammered. don't you? certainly not for a taste sensation. he agreed he said he KNEW this alcohol tasted like SHIT and it only existed for its inebriating properties, like beer for example, but he said he never drank beer anyways he was a SCOTCH man (as if scotch tasted any more fantastic). however still he was saying that he was in 'the Zone', but only now i was hearing him pronouncing it 'zone', instead of 'ZONE!'. i didn't comment on this because i didn't want to sound like a know-it-all, but i knew that the announcement of a RESOLUTION usually ends up in a REVOLUTION that overthrows one's inner-government and burns them at the stake at dawn.
we got home and he walked straight over to the fridge, keys still in hand, beach-towel still strung over his shoulders. i think he was still talking about the devastating effects of a hangover when he plonked himself down in front of ME, GOD, Gabriel and by his ENTIRE Heavenly Host of angels and, while he was still in MID-SENTENCE knocked back a huge swallow of beer. as if we were blind!
he read my face, put the beer down and said: "whaaaat?!", he looked down and started reading the label on the bottle, "this is Windhoek LIGHT oKAY it's got like, ZERO alcohol and, look it says here it's got like, 2.whatever grams of carbs and ZERO fat!". he raised his eyebrows at me, i'm not sure whether he was trying to CONVINCE me and get my two-thumbs-up, or whether he was testing my memory to see if i'd forgotten that just then he'd said how crappy beer tasted. yes, i said, it was the same as the Diet Sprite i was drinking, "that's right, or WATER!" he responded.
i said hey, it was fine, he didn't have to explain himself away to me, he was a grown man and didn't need parenting. and i meant it. really i did.
so i went into the kitchen and made myself a salad.
while i was busy i noticed a bottle of Jameson's in my cupboard, also from Wendy's party residue. i caught his eye from where i was standing. "whaaat?", he said still waiting for a snotty comment from me. instead i revealed the location of the bottle of scotch.
pause. now i know how this is beginning to sound. yes, i was having fun making him reveal how weak his will-power was, but i really just wanted him to relax and give himself some well deserved time-out.
now, the Universe graces every individual with a unique and special gift. like some people can play the guitar without learning a note - this was not Jonathan's gift because he'd bought an electric guitar (to placate his inner rockstar) but was yet to strum a chord. however he'd kept repeating to me how he could drink for like, EVER, and never get drunk - "i'm telling you girl after a bottle and a half of scotch i'll be talking to you exactly like i am now".
he wasn't far wrong.
anyway, he stuck DSTV on VH1 and we sat speaking shit - which consisted, as usual, of me talking and him contradicting everything i said. he's funny. actually, my lithium levels started reeling round about then as the colors in my salad started turning luminous acid colors. but i found myself laughing instead of speed-dialling Raymond. this was a first for me. Jonathan is very relaxing for me to be around and i obviously feel really safe with him. suddenly a song came on that made us both sit up and shut up. we both LOVED this song and sat transfixed till we caught the title at the end. i almost climbed INSIDE my Mac and got Limewire searching SO FAST that i'm sure the program hyperventilated. we sat holding our breaths until, SHEBANG! there it was! "APOLOGISE" by Timberland featuring One Republic. we played it over and over until i commented that we might be murdering it but he said, "so what i LOVE killing songs!", so did i so i put it on replay for SO LONG that eventually we had to get out of the building or we might've jumped out of the 10th floor window in a hypnotic trance. we decided to go to a bar.
we landed up at Wakame, very UIOA - that stands for 'up its own ass'. Wakame is La Perla no.2. FYI.
but as the Universe would have it, every time i say i hate something i get the opposite dealt to me, and we ended up having a really brilliant time. he looked really cool in the kamakaze-flaming-jet-fighter t-shirt i'd bought him (i couldn't resist) and he was making his friend Duncan and i weep with laughter as he swung between calling himself 'THE ROCK' and 'THE WOLF' and that the two of us should not mess with EITHER identity. when we inquired as to which one he actually WAS he replied it depended on which language we were speaking, in English he was 'THE ROCK' but in Latin he was 'THE WOLF'. however they both meant the same thing: don't mess with HIM or he'd beat us like a red-headed step child! they ended up playing ching-chong-cha in a battle to display their manliness, 'THE ROCK/WOLF' won and i said 'let's get outa here' and we went back to Duncan's house. i remember them asking me what was iiiii going to do there because i wasn't drinking, to which i replied "why? have i not been any fun the way that i am for the past eight hours?" they looked at each other and shrugged an affirmative and we left.
the three of us sat there talking and talking for SO LONG that Duncan eventually had to cook me a meal (kingklip - very good) and make me skinny cappucino's (also not too shabby).
at this point i need to mention that Jonathan was drunk. and no, sorry Jono but you were NOT in the exact same condition as you were ten hours ago at my apartment. however he was definitely not out of control or battling to speak or stand. he was a wonderful drunk! this was it! Jonathan Horrell had revealed to me his special gift from the Universe - he was a human alcohol sponge!
however when the conversation began to settle on his ex-girlfriends etc etc, i felt myself becoming very uncomfortable, sorry i'm not sure why - or maybe i am sure why and i just don't feel like saying it here - but i really did not want to hear about his love life. i sucked it up however, get it off your chest, i've got broad shoulders (thanx again Vic Alley). i was really tired anyway and it was like 2:30 in the morning so i went home.
he stayed at Duncan, his car stayed at me. when i woke up i saw his keys were still lying on my table and i began to worry. telling myself they were grown men and could take care of themselves over and over in my head i went into town for accupuncture. the little oriental man examined me and asked me whether i was under any unusual stress because my Chi was blocked. impressive stuff. but i guess the doorman lounging at the entrance could've picked that up after i'd tounge-lashed him for not opened the door fast enough. when i got out Jonathan called, i sighed an exhale of relief and went home to give him his keys.
he was in pretty bad shape, but in the cutest way i can't describe it.
he went home. but i quickly started recieving sms's that read something like this: "puhleeeeeeeze don't let me do this to myself again," and "Angel i feel sooooo terrible," to which i responded that he should MAN UP! we'd had a great evening. he said he was having a bubble bath - a very ROCK/WOLF-like thing to do don't you think? and finally he went to bed.
so there you have it people: Jonathan is a fine pilot but an even BETTER drunk. fantastic for our viewing pleasure but sadly painful for him to recover from.
KUDOS Jono! you've earned your wings on the Universal List of Indestructible Constitutions, standing shoulder to shoulder with all time greats like Brad Green, Duncan Fuller and Chippie Aitkinson. you may now recieve the crown that we, the leaders of the Council of Chaos, have been waiting to hand over for such a long time. "balance has finally been restored in the Universe! the prophesy has come to pass! he is the Chosen One! we dub thee 'King Horrell, HIGH PRIEST of Drunkenness'! ALL HAIL!
(tap on each shoulder with a Peroni bottle, crowd cheering wildly background)!"
respect!
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