Coffeehouse Chronicles: Grandpoobahs, Designer Birthdays, and the Long Goodbye to Beaumont
Updated: 5 days ago
What up, Chroniclers?
Got yer cup?
Let's get after it.
Let me introduce you to a few more characters from the never-ending circus that somehow became my friend group.
First up is my barber, Damon.
Damon has been cutting my hair for about 30 years, and over that time he's been conducting what looks like a one-man westward expansion in reverse.
The first time I met him, I'm pretty sure he was cutting hair on a barge somewhere off Santa Monica Bay.
Every couple of years he moves further east.
First, it was convenient.
Then it was manageable.
Then it became a commitment.
Now we're about 90 minutes east of my house and the man lives in Beaumont.
For those of you keeping score, I think if he moves one more time, he's technically in Arizona.
Maybe New Mexico.
I've finally decided I need to have a difficult conversation with him.
"Damon, listen, buddy. I love you."
"Me too."
"But if you move another 30 miles east, I'm going to have to set you free."
You can only drive so far for a haircut before the haircut costs less than the gas to get there.
At some point I'm no longer a customer. I'm a pilgrim.
Then there's my buddy Steve.
Steve retired and apparently decided retirement wasn't for him.
Some people retire and travel.
Some people retire and golf.
Steve retired and got another office.
I stopped by the other day to check out his new digs.
"Hey Steve."
"Hey."
"How's retirement?"
"I'm the boss."
"Okay..."
"They call me Grandpoobah."
I stared at him. "Say again?"
"Grandpoobah."
"You got to choose your title and that's what you picked?"
"Yep."
"Not Director?"
"Nope."
"Not President?"
"Nope."
"Not Executive Something-or-Other?"
"Nope. Grandpoobah." He nodded proudly.
Apparently, when you're the boss, nobody tells you your title sounds like a theme-park mascot.
But if he's happy, I'm happy.
It was good seeing my pal.
Grandpoobah.
Lord help us.
Meanwhile, Slash is getting a little too comfortable.
His Raiders are in first place.
For now.
It's Week Two.
WEEK TWO.
Yet every time I see him, he's yelling the same thing.
"SEE YOU IN THE SUPER BOWL!"
Easy, pal.
Take a breath.
Cowboy fans say that every year.
Raiders fans are starting to sound suspiciously familiar.
It's only Week Two.
By Week Eight, everybody will either be looking at playoff brackets or mock draft boards.
There's no in-between.
Speaking of Cowbay fans...
Last weekend Moe threw a surprise birthday party for Winnie.
When I say Moe threw a party, what I really mean is Moe had an idea.
Then he looked at Teddi and Roe and said:
"I'm throwing a surprise party."
And they did all the work.
Let's call it what it was.
Moe was Executive Director of Suggestions.
Teddi and Roe were Operations.
Now, as I've explained before, Winnie is a designer-girl extraordinaire.
Louis Vuitton.
Gucci.
YSL.
Dunhill.
The alphabet agencies of fashion.
So naturally, the party had a Louis Vuitton theme.
When I say theme, I don't mean a couple of decorations.
I mean somebody apparently robbed a Louis Vuitton showroom.
There were Louis Vuitton centerpieces.
Louis Vuitton table settings.
Louis Vuitton banners.
Louis Vuitton backdrops.
Louis Vuitton selfie stations.
There was even Louis Vuitton charcuterie.
I didn't know cheese could be designer.
Apparently I was wrong.
The grapes looked expensive.
The crackers looked expensive.
I was afraid to eat anything because I thought I'd have to finance it.
Then came the cake.
Lord have mercy.
The cake looked exactly like a Louis Vuitton hat box.
You know those baking competition shows where people make a cake that looks like a fire truck, a grand piano, or a small apartment complex?
That was this cake.
Folks were standing around trying to figure out whether to cut it or display it in a storefront window.
The best part was watching Moe.
At first he was happily accepting compliments.
"Great party."
"Beautiful setup."
"Nicely done."
He was smiling.
Then reality slowly arrived.
He started calculating.
You could literally see the math happening behind his eyes.
Then he looked at Teddi.
Then he looked at the decorations.
Then he looked at the cake.
Then he looked at his wallet.
Then he looked back at Teddi.
The man appeared shell-shocked.
See, Moe is always complaining that Winnie has obtained permanent access to his wallet.
He's worried about the wrong person.
Teddi may be the real financial threat.
What Moe forgets is that Teddi and Winnie are Olympic gold medalists in the shopping events.
Purses.
Shoes.
Accessories.
Designer labels.
They're professionals.
I've seen wanted posters.
I suspect Rodeo Drive and Fashion Island have their own version.
The header probably says: NEWPORT'S MOST WANTED
Then Teddi and Winnie's pictures are hanging side-by-side.
Store managers don't run when they see them.
They prepare.
Moe's fatal error was giving Teddi Carte Blanche.
Literally.
The poor guy never stood a chance.
September apparently is Birthday Season around here.
The very next day was the Captain's birthday.
After seeing Winnie's party, I'm pretty sure Tenille got a little nervous.
Imagine following that act.
"Okay honey, what are we doing for my birthday?"
Tenille's over there pricing balloons while Louis Vuitton cake boxes are dancing through his nightmares.
Good luck, Tenille.
We're pulling for you.
Anyway, happy birthday to everybody celebrating this month.
And Chroniclers...
You know what to do.
Drink 'em if ya got 'em!
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