This isn’t a post about USC or the Bachelor or what I did over the weekend. It isn’t a post about what bourbon you should drink, the appropriate type of suit to wear to an outdoor cocktail party or a recipe for slow cooking a pork shoulder until it literally deems you to hell after you die. This is a post about Keith.
This is Keith before I knew him. The thing is, Keith probably stole this dog by mistake. He was probably in some random neighborhood at a bar you and I would never find and someone asked him to watch their dog and he probably just decided to liberate the dog for some reason. Now, clearly he’s taking care of it. It’s not like that. It’s more that Keith may have been sent here to destroy the universe or he may be from the Bible. I am not sure, but from the moment I met Keith, he has been somewhat of a hero to me.
Keith and I were sitting in the parking lot at Dodger Stadium years ago drinking some beers ignoring the no-tailgating policy. We had the beers in brown bags and were pretty much just standing there before a day game. Security comes up in a golf cart and asks us what’s in the brown bags. Keith just responds “what bags” over and over until eventually, something else more important happened and they just gave up.
Keith is magic, okay? He’s Gandalf. You have agreed to Keith’s demands and you don’t even know him yet. That’s why when I get to the end of this article, despite the fact he likes a stupid pro team, despite the fact that he married into being an Oregon Duck, you are going to help him. I’d never have perfected killing bears without meeting Keith.
Like, who is that guy? Keith knows. And he won’t tell you. That’s Keith’s cowboy friend and you are out of the loop.
So, Keith hired me a long time ago. This was a great meeting because I am almost positive that he would have preferred every other candidate and I interviewed poorly. In fairness, this was the day after the cell phone ordinance was passed and when I was going to interview, I realized I had brought a suit to change into, but no shirt. So, I got pulled over on the 405 trying to ask for directions to a mall near the interview which I was running late for.
I ended up getting almost naked in a parking lot outside the mall in front of some local kids and making the interview by one minute after having told the woman at the checkout to “keep the change” on a 20 dollar shirt that I had a 50 dollar bill for. After the interview I realized the size sticker was still on my chest and I was bleeding in two spots because I forgot to take all the pins out. A far cry from my business life now, but everyone starts somewhere.
That is pretty much the best way I can describe my relationship with Keith. We were cosmically supposed to destroy the planet together. Period. I have bled through many shirts being his friend and great things have happened along the way. When we are old men dying from years of being awesome, we’ll probably just high five each other and try to book a suite in hell.
The guy just gets it done and he does so with the stealth of Seal Team Six. I am still not positive he’s not on Seal Team Six. The biggest argument against Keith being a member of Seal Team Six is he would have named it something more like “The Awesomes” or “Superkillers USA”.
I am pretty sure he’s in Jamaica here.
Look, since he hired me years ago, we’ve both gone on to do great things. I’m not talking about work or the blog. I mean one time we found a street vendor in New Orleans who was selling cupcakes and we just bought all of them and made the girl give them out at a bar as if we had it catered. We were not drinking at all, obviously.
I gave Keith a Dodger hat one time after some Yamazaki at an afterparty when my band had played the Troubadour and he responded by slapping me so hard I spun around 360. Then he just pointed to me and walked home.
I can’t even tell you any more stories because people are reading this. You are one of them. All I can tell you is that Keith is the reason the dinosaurs got loose in Jurassic Park and he’s suing Spielberg for messing up a true story (he tried to sue Michael Crighton, but turns out he is dead).
We are go to guys. When I was getting married, Keith came through with a million things for me, left and right from helping with the bachelor party to keeping me from dying at least 3 times in my life, especially in Costa Mesa that one time. You know what I’m talking about, big guy.
So when Keith got married, not only did I help plan the bachelor party, I actually was the officiant who married he and his wife. Yes, I legally can perform weddings (so if you want me to marry you, I’m not cheap but take it from anyone, I know how to marry some people right) and basically listening to me marry people is like watching Love Actually on Christmas Eve with a model who really loves Hugh Grant.
So, here’s the thing. As I mentioned, Keith has terrible taste in sports teams. While all of his best friends are Trojans (because how could a man like this not gravitate towards people like us), he is an Oregon Duck by marriage (and his wife is tied with Steve Prefontaine for Duck Most Deserving of Being a Trojan) and a Yankee fan (just puked in my mouth) and a NY Giants fan.
Keith’s Giants are in the Super Bowl and the other day, I realized he was going to try and go.
So, Keith is going to Indianapolis, home of the NCAA and the end of Peyton Manning’s career, without Super Bowl tickets or a place to stay with his longtime friend (and now my friend) Josh.
The two of these men have a long tradition of sneaking into sporting events. Oregon Stanford. A SF Giants game. The list goes on and on and on. I don’t know how they do it other than that Keith is a six foot Jedi and Josh is the best actor in the United States. Sometimes Josh comes over in character and I don’t realize it is him until 2am. His impersonation of a New Orleans cab driver haunts me. He’s also fun to play craps with.
Keith even snuck into this ad.
And these pictures at my wedding:
So here’s my dilemma. I don’t want Keith to fail at this. I don’t want him to try to sneak into the Super Bowl, the most heavily guarded media event in the universe, because I believe he will stop at nothing and as his priest-slash-bachelor-party-coordinator, I feel it is my responsibility.
This blog is awesome and you know that. Even most Oregon Duck fans who totally hate it keep reading it because, like Keith, they know a good Trojan when they see one. This blog is read internationally by hundreds of thousands of good looking people. Surely some of you are in Indianapolis or have a hookup for a Super Bowl ticket.
This post is not sanctioned by Keith, although he (and his wife) will find out about it sooner than later. Here is what I am asking, and the bearfighter rarely asks for favors.
- Somewhere for Keith and Josh to crash (paid or free)
- Access to 2 Super Bowl tickets (paid or free)
Anyone who helps will receive the greatest of gifts. I will get Keith to hand-draw you a sign thanking you and I will make it the header of my blog for a week (unless the picture is great and then I may just leave it).
That’s my ask. Who can make it happen?