Ever since I've been blogging I've been telling stories about a wonderful place called Max Barbecue, and its illustrious proprietor, the late, great Joe Zaidan. It would take way too long to go into the whole scene and talk about how much of a crazy character he was, but basically he was a nut.
He was born in Africa I believe, and lived there before moving to Spain, and he spent time in other places like Lebanon and elsewhere. He was somewhat small in stature but larger than life. He was energetic, wide open, friendly, smart, athletic and a true comedian. He was a sweetheart but he could be really gruff too. He didn't have too many filters so he'd say whatever he felt like, whether it was appropriate or not.
It's not like he was trying to be mean or insulting or rude or anything, but he didn't understand all of the nuances and social customs and such. He was brutally frank and honest, but sometimes he'd say things that most people in this country wouldn't.
There were certain things including the concept of humor and what people in this country find funny and such that didn't quite cross the communication barrier smoothly. He'd say things to people and they'd be taken aback, if not totally shocked.
Usually it ended up being funny, but not always. He pissed off people totally without meaning to. Sometimes his gruffness would come off like he wasn't being friendly but that's just how he was.
Max was popular among all age groups. Beautiful women of all styles came in every day, and it was hard not to notice. No matter whether I currently had a girlfriend or not, when a fine sister or sisters walked in without an obvious significant other, he'd try to set me up, in his own special way.
It would start out okay...he'd point me out and go "You know Kelly?" Usually they'd shake their head. "He plays the drums. He is famous personality of the drums." Usually they didn't much seem to care but occasionally it might pique their interest. So far so good and no harm done...yet.
He'd imitate me playing drums. He'd be smiling and flailing his arms all about. He'd say, "He is famous drummer...he play like 'dis...BIM BAM BOOM! You should go see heem!" It was hilarious.
He'd mimic my "drinking and drumming" thing. He'd be flailing his arms around and laughing like a maniac, and he'd reach down with one hand and pretend to grab a beer. He'd lean his head back and pretend to down it all in one go, while pretending to still be playing drums with the other hand. I have to say he got me on that one. It was awesome and everybody would get a big laugh out of it. Some of the gals might even be smiling at me.
If he'd left it alone at that point it might have worked, but he thought they needed additional information that was...well, of a more sensitive nature. At this point I'd be ready to hang my head...I knew what was coming and I knew that any hopes of getting together with them were about to be dashed to Hell. "Here goes..."
He'd say something like: "You know Kelly...'dis boo-boo? He has huge bolls. He has bolls like balloon." For emphasis he'd make a big round shape with his hands to show how big they were. He'd go on about how great it was that my "bolls" were so big. It was out to lunch.
Ordinarily it would've been funny, if it weren't for the fact that any possibility of getting to know any of these women had just been brutally eliminated. Sometimes they'd laugh, thank God, but other times they wouldn't. I'd just shrug my shoulders and smile an embarrassed smile. What else could I do? It was rough.
What's funny is that Joe really thought he was doing me a favor by describing the size of my scrotum. I guess he thought it'd make me look virile or maybe he thought they'd be turned on or whatever, but it was definitely one of those times where certain things didn't cross the communication bridge without paying a heavy toll.
Bless his heart, and rest his soul, he was trying to help but he couldn't have been more backward. Some things don't translate. It's pretty dang funny to look back on now, and such a bizarre and unlikely way to try to set someone up for a date.
Who knows...if he'd stopped after the part about me drinking and drumming, I might have met the love of my life. That'd have been something I'd have treasured for life, and the response to the question every married couple gets asked would have been awesome. "So, where'd you guys meet?" "We met at Max Babacue." That would've been amazing. Oh, well...it was still hilarious. You can't buy memories like that. Sorry, girls!
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